


Pawns

by VelvetMace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Abduction, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Forced Labor, Hurt/Comfort, Impressment, Imprisonment, M/M, Mind Control, Plot, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 90,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1512839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetMace/pseuds/VelvetMace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Al is flesh, Ed is retired, Winry is in love, and Roy is in jail.  The Army wants all of them, willing or not, for a sinister purpose.  COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in April 2005, while watching the first season of the first anime as it came out in the US. Inevitably, canon went one way and I was committed to go another. The Fuhrer isn't Fuhrer Bradley, the homunculi don't make an appearance (I didn't know enough about them or their agenda to use them) and many facts that came out later aren't factored in here. So while I wasn't intending this to be an alternate universe, it became one anyway.
> 
> There is torture in this, but it's mostly off screen or poorly detailed, but the aftermath is described more heavily. There are also other things that I have not warned for because it would spoil the story
> 
> Originally I made and omake, but I left it off, because frankly it was retched. Man, that remember that muse fad? Yeaaaah.
> 
> I have no plans to revise this story. It was my first "big hit" in fandom and has a kind of a historical warm spot in my heart. I'm posting this as an attempt to consolidate my fics in one fairly easily found place, since LJ is no longer the fandom space it used to be.

 

**THE FOUNDATION**

The rest of the house was nothing but crumbling charred timbers and debris, but the stone floor of the workroom was still there. Ed even fancied he saw a trace of old chalk under the dust and ash.

"Full circle, Al," He muttered, fingering the stone in his pocket.

"We'll need a clean space," said Al, the ever practical one. "Let me." And he stooped, metal knee raising a cloud into the dry summer air. He used his finger to sketch a series of geometrical designs in the dirt, then placed his leather hand gingerly into the array. Bright light briefly issued from the ground, then sudden wind buffeted both boys from all directions. When the wind ceased the stone foundation was as clean and pristine as any slate.

Ed pulled out two pieces or chalk and handed one to his brother. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes. Very."

"Last time you ignored your feelings. What do they say this time?"

"They say the time is right, Brother." Al sounded optimistic. "I'm ready to be flesh again. I don't want to wait any longer."

Ed nodded and knelt and both began to draw.

**NOT PERFECT**

It hadn't been a true philosophers stone, but the boys prayed it was good enough. In the end it was, but only just. It shattered violently in Ed's automail hand the moment his human hand touched Al's. Ed could only hold on as tightly as he could pulling the other back into realm of the living, hoping that Al's soul had reattached itself, because there was no going back into the armor now. The armor hadn't just broken under the strain, it had exploded, shattering into tiny flecks.

But it had been enough. When the fury and light died down again, and the steam and smoke settled out Ed still held Al's warm hand in his. Exhaustion held Ed to the hot stone floor, but nothing could keep him from looking at his brother's body for the first time in four years.

No, his brother's body wasn't perfect. It had all it's pieces. It was warm. It breathed large gasping breaths, but it wasn't perfect. But the years on the other side had not been that kind. Where once Al had been soft and round, the last traces of baby fat gracing his body, now he was emaciated and angular. He'd grown perhaps three or four inches on the other side, but had lost mass. His skin had turned pale, his muscles had shrunk, and his hair and nails were longer, though not as long as they would have been had they been allowed to grow in the outside world.

It didn't matter to Ed. Because even though he couldn't move, not even to keep his hand from slipping out of his brothers limp grasp, he could see Al stirring. Al was uncurling from a fetal position, naked body stretching out in the sunlight. Al's eyes were fluttering open, his mouth sucking in breath and letting it out in shudders. Al was turning his head to look at HIM, those huge hazel eyes focusing and blinking.

"Welcome back, Al," Ed breathed.

"Brother, " said Al's, his voice hoarse and gravelly. "I can feel the sun."

Ed smiled and closed his eyes, letting the joy carry him off to sleep.

**WINRY**

There had been a loud crack and a strange light through the kitchen window. Winry had run out of the house, a feeling of eerie déjà vu sending tingles through her body. From over the rolling grass hills she could see the alchemical reaction churning up the afternoon sky. Just like it had 4 years before.

They were doing it again.

Her heart pounding she had turned to her grandmother. "I've got to go."

And she'd run, down the path and over the hill as fast as her slippered feet would let her, taking short cuts through the long grass, leaping over a drainage ditch and at last reaching the skeleton of the Elric's house.

She found them collapsed in the remnants of their array. At first her heart tripped and she thought they were dead, but then she realized that they were breathing, very slowly and deeply. Anger which had been forced into the background by her initial terror re-emerged with a vengeance.

Ed had destroyed his automail – AGAIN. Just for that she was going to be extra brutal attaching his new arm.

And there, that was Al. Oh my god, that truly was Al, looking like a famine victim, like he could die again at any moment if he wasn't taken care of.

Winry looked around desperately but saw nothing she could use to haul either boy back home. "You jerks," she said at last. She reached for a better word to describe the conflicting emotions she felt, but could come up with nothing more. "You inconsiderate jerks."

**PINAKO**

"Well, " Pinako had told Ed when he'd finally woken up, "I was hoping you boys would pay us a visit. Wasn't expecting Winry to have to haul you back in a wheelbarrow though. Why didn't you call ahead? Let us know?"

Ed struggled to sit up in bed. It was tough but he managed. His automail arm was detached, and his flesh arm felt like a wet noodle. "You'd have stopped us."

"Maybe. We'll never know now." She placed a sandwich on the end table next to the bed. "Can you reach it, or will I have to feed you."

Ed reached it.

"So," she said after a long moment. "What about the your arm and leg. Are you going to try to bring them back, too?"

Ed shook his head and swallowed. "No. It's enough. There are plenty of old soldiers who have lost as much as I have. They've gone on to live happy lives. I can do the same."

"What about Al?"

"I'll convince him. It isn't worth risking any more. It's enough."

Pinako picked up the empty plate, sparing a last look at the exhausted alchemist. She hoped he was speaking the truth, but in the back of her mind she suspected that it _wasn't_ enough. Not for Al, and not for Ed either. Sooner or later they would tempt fate again. She hoped it was whole lot later.

**MUSTANG**

Over summer and into the fall, Ed had written Mustang three times. The first was a long letter written days after Al's return to his body. Out of habit, Ed had written the incident up as a report, outlining what he'd done, and what the results were in a very clinical way. It was only near the end that he'd broken down let himself become personal.

> I can't express how happy I am to have Al back. It is as though I have managed to turn back the clock and undo my mistakes. I feel better than I have in years. Al is happy, too. Though he is still weak and has trouble doing ordinary things, he's getting better day by day. Sometimes he's overwhelmed by sensation and has to be quiet for a while, but most of the time he simply loves it. As far as his mind and soul are concerned they appear to be completely intact. He is exactly as he was before, as a person, and as armor.
> 
> _Although at times we haven't seen eye to eye, I do appreciate all you have done for us. Thank you so much, Sir._

Mustang had written him back quickly, expressing his awe and congratulations. He was looking forward to seeing Al in the flesh, and was wondering when Ed planned on returning.

Al had read the letter and handed it back to Ed, those huge hazel eyes looking thoughtful. "Are you going to go back?"

"Hell, _no!_ " said Ed. "The only reason I signed on for the Army was to do this, to get _you_ back. I'm not going to be _anyone's_ dog again."

Al had smiled, but then looked rather pointedly at the end table, where Ed had stowed his watch.

"I'm sending it back, tomorrow."

The second letter to Mustang had been stuffed into the package with the watch. It was a request to resign.

Mustang had waited almost a month before writing back.

> Please reconsider your resignation. While you have accomplished what you set out to do, the army is still the best place for a person of your abilities. With the resources available here, you can go far. If you wish to pursue research, I will help you to that end. If you prefer a more active roll, I'll see you will have that as well.

Ed had snorted. "Al, he's missing me already."

The letter had gone on.

> There are also other considerations. I don't know if you have heard of the rumors about the Fuhrer, but they are very troubling. It looks like there may be a war soon, and a bigger one than Ishbal. It would require some finesse from up high to get our country out of this. I am doing my best in this regard, but I could use your help.

It was code and not too veiled at that. Mustang was about to unleash his coup, and he wanted Ed on board. Ed's belly burned.

No. It was enough. He was done fighting, done getting his hands dirty. Politics did not interest him.

Mustang's final words left him completely cold.

> I'm grateful that you remember all I have done to help you out. Your watch is waiting for you in my office.

"I knew I shouldn't have thanked him. Now he's trying to guilt me into staying."

Al had held the letter gingerly in his fingers and read it over slowly twice. "We do owe him."

But Ed shook his head violently. "He got his money's worth."

Ed had rewritten his letter of resignation, making it as formal as possible to leave no doubt in Mustang's mind.

Mustang had written back an even shorter letter.

> Dear citizen Edward Elric,
> 
> Your letter of resignation has been received and accepted. I wish you well in your endeavors.
> 
> Sincerely, Colonel Mustang.

It was the last either of them heard from Mustang for 15 months.

**LIFE MOVES ON**

Al filled out on fresh air and good food. By the time fall had turned to winter he was slim but no longer skin and bones. His face had fleshed out a bit as well and by Christmas Winry even described him as beautiful. But he didn't grow much. Winry didn't know if this was because he'd spent so much time in the void or if it was just plain old genetics that lead both bothers to be petite.

Winry had mentioned early on, back when Al was still looking like he might be on his deathbed that she'd always liked Ed's hair. Al had taken that as a hint and had refused to cut his. Like his brother, his hair grew thick and fast and by Mid-Winter it fell several inches past his shoulders. He did not braid it though.

"Ed thinks I'm copying him," said Al sadly one December day, when Winry had conned him into letting her brush his hair.

"Mmmm?" asked Winry around the hair band.

"The hair, the clothes. He thinks that I want to be his twin or something. I don't, it's just that, I haven't really thought about personal style for years. It just seemed to be easier to go with what I see."

"Mmm," said Winry. She snagged the hair band out of her mouth and deftly looped it three times around his honey colored hair pulling it snug to the nape of his neck. "You can stop raiding Ed's closet any time you wish, but tell that bratty brother of yours, your hair is MINE." She then yanked him close to her.

Al smiled and leaned back against her, nestling into the warmth of her arms.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**STARTING OVER**

Though Pinako and Winry never complained about their extended stay, Ed knew it was time to go. They were being pushed out -- not by the women, but by their automail clients. There was only one guest room in the house, and while it was quite large and held three beds, it still was a pain to share it. Especially after Al caught one of the customers looking through Ed's personal alchemy notebook like it was casual reading.

"We need privacy," Ed explained. "And we really need to get started in our lives. We aren't automail engineers. We need a place to set up shop on our own."

Winry had stormed off when they told her they were leaving. But the next day, as if it were nothing at all, she'd accompanied them into town to look for a place to hang their shingle. She found one only a block from the train station, a two story brick row house in a mixed use neighborhood. The lower floor could easily be converted into a shop and workroom, and the upper floor was a fine two-bedroom apartment.

"The Elric Brother's Alchemists," said Al proudly looking over the sign he'd just painted. "I think we are in business."

**STARS**

They visited the Rockbell's every Saturday. And after dinner, if it was at all clear, the three of them would go out and stare at the stars.

Ed tried to envision the pictures everyone else seemed to see in the dots, but nothing came. He turned to Al to mention the silliness of grouping unrelated stars simply because they were visible together in the night sky when he noticed Al had rolled away from him.

He and Winry were close to each other, whispering too low to be heard over the wind. Her hand touched Al's back. His hand touched her hair. There was a smothered laugh for something meant only for the two of them.

Ed felt a flush of anger at being snubbed, then a dull resentment settled in behind his stomach.

It was not as if he'd been courting Winry.

It was not as if he expected Al to live in his shadow.

It was not as if he didn't want them to be happy.

But right at that moment, Ed didn't want to see them together. So as quietly as he could he stood up and backed away, over the grass and back to the house. And when their voices called out to him, he didn't look back, and pretended not to hear.

**SOMETHING NEW**

Al knew his brother wasn't content. Honestly, he wasn't either. Every day Al saw the glint of metal on his brother and turned his head away. A little reminder of unfinished business. They never mentioned it to each other but the subject lay in the background, just waiting to rear its head again.

"I've been thinking," said Ed one night over spaghetti. "The real trouble with human Alchemy isn't in the body. The body is just flesh, material components. It's easy to reproduce. It's the soul, always the soul that gets in the way."

Al nodded. "It's unquantifiable. How can you trade for something you can't measure?"

"But what if the soul isn't involved. Then is it really so terrible to do a transmutation on human flesh?"

"You mean on dead things?"

"No, no." Ed leaned forward over the table not noticing his sleeve draping into the sauce. "For example someone cuts off their hand. Would it be so hard to put it in an alchemy circle and attach it back on again? The man's alive, it's just putting the pieces together, just like a stereo or any other piece of junk. The soul isn't in your hand. Or would the soul have to be joined back into the part? In any case, no one would be creating a soul. It's not a factor."

"Are you wanting to put Winry out of business?" said Al with a smile.

"Of course not, but think it through. If it works with a hand, why not some part that we DON'T have automail for. How about an eye. Or a heart. Or even an illness. Why can't we use alchemy to heal instead of hurt. Hell, we can put a man in the hospital with ease, but why can't we use alchemy to take him back out again. We aren't talking resurrection. We are talking medicine."

Al was intrigued.

"I want to go back to Central," said Ed.

Al's heart sank. "You aren't signing up again."

"Hell no! No, I won't have access to the National Library, but there are other libraries there. Maybe not as thorough, but open to the public. I can check them. See if anyone else has thought on these lines."

"Mustang won't be able to help you," said Al.

The silence was heavy for a while.

Mustang was in prison. His coup had failed. Failed even before it had really started. Ed never wanted to talk about that either. Al knew he felt guilty. If Ed hadn't resigned, perhaps the coup would have gone differently.

But this was the past. Mustang was still alive, for now at least. Last the two of them had heard he had confessed in exchange for all his underlings getting off with a demotion and reassignment to different regiments. It was strange to think that a man who was so in control of all would be reduced so low.

They had not bothered to send him a letter. They knew he wouldn't received it.

"I think after all the death and destruction, I'm ready to do a bit of healing," said Ed, switching the subject back. "It will be a worthwhile cause."

**TOGETHER**

"I have something to show you," said Al the day of Ed's departure. Ed woke up out of his reverie and noticed that Al was looking exhausted. 'It's down in the workroom. I was up all night making it." Al caught his flesh arm at the elbow and tugged him down the stairs.

On the workbench was a large piece of parchment with an unusual array drawn on it. Curiosity piqued, Ed hurried over to study it, running his fingers along the black lines. "What is it? It's similar to arrays for making duplicates of something."

Al smiled broadly. "You aren't the only one who can do his own research."

Ed felt his stomach growing heavy. "I can't take you to Central with me, Al. Someone needs to stay here and mind the store."

"I know," said Al. Ed heard the bitterness in his voice. It was true, between Ed's automail and the setting up shop most of their father's money had been spent. With Ed's military income gone, the shop was their only source or revenue. If Ed was going to realize his dreams of Alchemical Medicine, he would need a lot of equipment and resources. Al's unspoken job was to provide.

"But that doesn't mean you need to spend weeks away. Hand me your notebook," said Al.

Ed raised an eyebrow but complied, pulling the slim volume from his coat pocket.

Al put it into the array and then laid another notebook next to it. "Look: blank," he said. Then he put a bottle of ink into the array.

"If you wreck my notes…" threatened Ed.

"Watch." Al touched the array. Bright light flooded the workroom, and then the bottle of ink was empty. Ed snatched back his workbook and glanced feverishly through the pages. They were exactly as he had written them. But then Al picked up the blank notebook and showed him. There, oh God, there was an exact replica of his writing, down to the ink splotches.

Al rolled up the parchment and handed it to him. "Instead of doing your research there, bring it home. We can do it together."

Ed broke out into one of his fiercest smiles. "You bet."

**SEPARABLE**

Winry knew Al was sad. He hid it pretty well, but on those days when Ed was off running around the country in pursuit of whatever it was he was pursuing, Al would become extra quiet, as if a part of him had gone along for the trip and left his body behind.

It annoyed her.

They were kissing now, tenderly on the porch. Feather light touches of lips against lips, against hands. Necks. A gentle stroke down the back of her dress. Their feet slid out of shoes, his toe playfully scratched her instep.

But he wasn't hers. Some part of him was still grafted onto his brother. And Ed didn't even seem to appreciate it. He didn't even seem to notice the hurt when he missed Al's 16th  birthday. True the trains had been unexpectedly shut down for a few days, Fuhrer's orders, but still, it made Winry mad. Ed could have found a way to get home. Ed simply apologized off handedly, and switched the subject. And none of them had mentioned it again.

She had dinner quite a few nights at Al's place, while his brother's room lay darkened. She'd tease Al while he cooked, spanking him lightly with a spatula. And they'd hold hands over the table, and talk about politics, and automail, and alchemy, and art. Al would wrap his arms around her as she washed the dishes and whisper nonsense words in her ears, drawing out each syllable until she laughed at the absurdity, or threatened to break a glass.

Al never invited her over when his brother was there.

"It makes him uncomfortable to see us together," Al said once.

"Then he really should get used to it."

"I think maybe he's jealous."

"Well, he certainly had his chance with me," Winry said. "I used to have a huge crush on him when I was younger. I'd give him grief for messing up the automail, but I loved working on it. But he never ever did anything. Well, the crush is over. I've found the right brother. He can live with it."

"It's nice to know you settled for me," Al said, and Winry just about kicked herself.

"I didn't say that."

"It's ok. I'm used to being the other Elric."

"You were _never_ the other Elric. Not with me." But he wasn't convinced, and he never really smiled until his brother returned.

No, you aren't the other Elric, thought Winry bitterly, as she watched the two hug each other on the train platform, but perhaps I'm the other Ed.

**REVERSAL**

Fourteen months after Al became flesh, he dropped a letter onto the workbench next to Ed and then stood back. "What do they want, Brother?" The dangerous tone in Al's voice jerked Ed to attention.

He looked up from the broken toy he had been about to fix, and flipped the letter over. The return address was Army Headquarters in Central. It wouldn't be Mustang, Ed knew. It was 9 months too late for that. He didn't know of anyone else who would even want to contact him. Anger settled into the pit of his stomach.

"I hope it's back pay," he groused as he pried the letter open.

 

 

 

 

> _State Alchemist Edward Elric, aka Fullmetal,_
> 
> _Greetings._
> 
> _Your request for resignation has been denied. You are hereby ordered to return to Army Recruitment Headquarters, Central Division, by no later than October 5_ _th_ _for reassignment. Failure to do so will be considered an absence without leave, punishable by fine, loss of rank, and or up to five years hard labor._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Lt. Colonel Avery Dunn_
> 
> _Recruitment, Reenlistment, and Reactivation Supervisor_

"What the HELL!" screamed Ed. "I retired! They _accepted_ my retirement! They can't retroactively deny it. It's been a whole goddamn _year_."

Al swallowed hard. "It's the war." Ed never wanted to hear about the war. He didn't want to know about the news at all. In fact it had gotten to the point that Al had asked Winry to buy papers for him which he'd read feverishly during his visits to her house, or when Ed was out of town.

"I'm not a State Alchemist anymore," said Ed. "I didn't go back for Mustang, I certainly am not going to go back for Dung or whatever his name is. It's _their_ war. I'll have no part in it." Ed suddenly left the workroom. Al followed him upstairs to Ed's bedroom. When he got there the familiar old suitcase was open on the bed and Ed was pulling out his latest notebook and his clothes from his bureau.

"I'm going out West this time. I've heard of a couple of libraries out that direction. I may be a few weeks."

"What should I tell them if they come looking for you?"

"Tell them you don't know where I am. Then show them the letter that says I'm officially retired and tell them to go screw themselves with it."

"That would probably wreck the letter," Al deadpanned.

That had gotten a laugh out of Ed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
 

**JAIL**

Roy Mustang didn't know why he was still alive. Grace of God, perhaps, though he was not that religious a person. Of course, this wasn't much of a life, and what little it was could be removed from him at any point.

It had been almost a year since armed MP's had broken his door in at 3 am and had hauled him off to face judgment. His last moments in his house were spent watching grim looking military thugs rifling through his things.

He hadn't been wearing his gloves to sleep. They had counted on that. Soon they had removed the rest of his clothes along with any shred of dignity he had, and in their place they had given him a soft cotton long sleeved shirt and pants of a similar material. Hideously bright orange.

"This clashes with my complexion," he complained to one jailor, trying to keep things light.

But the other wouldn't even speak to him.

He was brought to a room in prison especially made for "his type." The floor was made of a dense but somewhat spongy material, the walls were the same. There were no hard corners anywhere, nothing he could injure himself with and create a sufficient pool of blood to create an array. And the material repelled water, so the arrays he'd tried using water from the tiny sink had beaded up uselessly.

They allowed him no writing implements of any sort, nor anything hard or pointed that could possibly scratch an array, either into the floor or into his own flesh.

There were much worse places they could have taken him. But in its own subtle way, the room was worse than he could imagine. With nothing to do, no one to talk to, any stimulation, even the discomfort of a hard cold floor would have been welcome. Sometimes he acted up just because punishment was better than the endless nothingness that filled his day.

When they punished him, they were careful not to leave a mark. Wet sheeting was the favorite torture. It involved stripping him naked, which his jailors appeared to enjoy more than they should have, and tying him spread eagle to the bed. Then sheets were dipped in ice-cold water and laid across him. Between the chill of the sheets and the evaporation, Roy would be left shivering painfully for hours. When the sheets had dried, they would release him and give him back his clothes. He was informed that they could maintain the torture for days if he gave them a reason to. Roy hadn't given them a reason.

Every other week or so, the monotony of his existence was punctuated by visitors. Always the same two -- a tall ugly brick of man who Roy called the Thug, and a thinner, shorter man who Roy called the Weasel. They had never named themselves.

The Thug's job was to intimidate Roy into doing things. Giving him information. Doing some alchemical jobs (under strict supervision). Research. Although Roy was certain the set up was that he should hate and fear this man, he found himself curiously looking forward to his visits. The conversation was always more interesting than that of his jailors. The jobs made life much more bearable. Roy learned important things during his own interrogation.

The Weasel was supposed to have been Roy's motivation to be a good boy, but Roy simply hated him. The Weasel never asked for anything from Roy, instead he always sauntered in with a big toothy smile pretending to be Roy's bosom buddy. "I carry good news, friend!" he'd say.

The Weasel told Roy that Riza Hawkeye was doing well in her reassignment to the Northern Recruiting office. She was training the new recruits with her gun techniques. The results pleased the Fuhrer immensely. Armstrong was on the front lines, still going strong. He'd been injured in an attack, but not badly, and he was already back with his regiment. Havoc, Feury and all the others were doing similarly well.

"Could I write a letter to them?" Roy asked, knowing the answer.

"Of course not."

And then there was the hitch that always came after news of his friends. "Aren't you glad you agreed to help us. They all have good lives now. Let's hope it stays that way."

Roy wanted to strangle the Weasel for reminding him that his sacrifices weren't over, that his cooperation was _still_ required to save the lives of his people. But the small jobs the Thug had been bringing him hardly seemed equivalent for what they had given Roy. There was something else coming.

Sure enough the Thug visited him the next day. "What do you know about Edward Elric."

Roy didn't hesitate. "He's a brilliant researcher, and he has decent combat skills. His alchemical abilities are unparalleled. But he's also stubborn and a hot head. And retired. I doubt you will be able to lure him back."

"He is AWOL."

Roy gasped. "He reenlisted?" He hadn't thought that possible. What incentive could they have possibly offered him?

"Ah yes, you aren't up on the news are you. There have been a few laws enacted since your incarceration. " The Thug smiled. "It has come to the Fuhrer's attention that loose Alchemists can be very dangerous destabilizing element to the State. Especially Alchemists of National Standard. While they are in the Army their efforts can be directed towards proper projects. On there own, well, you know as well as I, Alchemists can get themselves into trouble."

"So the Army just decided that he was reenlisted," said Roy, dourly.

"Technically, we refused his resignation. But that is just temporary. There are more laws in the works as we speak. Soon all Alchemists will be required to enlist. The enlistment may be on paper only, but it will give the Army options should the alchemist become particularly troublesome or… useful."

Roy swallowed. "Parliament would never approve such a law."

"We are at war. A war we will _lose_ if we allow valuable resources such as alchemists to undermine the State. " The Thugs voice softened and he leaned forward conspiratorially. "Also, some of those in Parliament who rejected the idea out of hand have been going… missing lately. And some have had tragic, unfortunate accidents."

Roy shuddered. "What do you want from me?"

"We need you to tell us where Elric has gone. Is there some place in the West that he's particularly fond of? His employee didn't appear to know."

Employee? That would be Al. Smart boy.

"I never sent him that direction. You have my files, you'd know that."

The Thug sighed. "It was a hope. I have another matter to talk to you about. A more long term project. The Fifth Lab has been rebuilt and you will soon be given passes to go to work there."

"What will I be doing?"

"You will be doing your best at whatever we tell you to do. Otherwise some of the sentencing for your friends may have to be reconsidered."

Roy looked away. The Fifth Lab of all places. Would it be chimeras? Or possibly something worse.

**CONSCRIPTION**

Ed was in the train station. It had been over two months since he'd left his brother and he missed the company dearly. October 5th had come and gone long ago. His money had almost run out. The price of things had gotten outrageous; inflation crept up daily. It was time to go home.

The wind was pretty bitter this November morning. He pulled his hat down lower over his ears and shrugged his collar higher. It would be good to go home at last, eat decent food and talk with someone. How he longed to talk with someone. It was damn lonely without Al around.

A commotion at the end of the Station caught his attention. He couldn't make out the words but then suddenly several youths and a girl started running. They passed by Edward and disappeared over the edge of the platform, running off into the bushes and weeds on the other side of the tracks. "What the hell?" Ed wondered.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around in his seat. He stopped with his palms less than an inch from each other. The man standing behind him was frightened and concerned, not menacing. "Boy, you better go hide."

"What?" Ed looked around. "What's going on?"

"Conscriptors. They are looking for anyone able bodied and young. They aren't picky, they just need to fill a quota. The war's had a lot of losses lately, I hear."

"You are kidding. Since when does the State kidnap people off the street to join the military?"

But the man had already moved on.

Ed saw uniforms on the end of the platform. If he ran now they would just follow him and perhaps find the other kids.

Able bodied, huh.

Much as he hated to do it, he reached down and grabbed his lower leg. Through the soft leather he found the latches and with expert manipulation his leg came loose and fell to the ground. Ed quickly picked it up and hid it behind his book satchel. He tucked the loose pant leg under his knee and waited.

The men and women in uniform were hurrying over to his position. They stopped in front of him "You," barked a woman with short hair and a stern expression. "Stand up."

Ed struggled to his remaining foot, balancing awkwardly. "He's no good," she said noticing the missing limb. "I saw others go this way." And she and her men moved on.

Ed watched them disappear into the bushes. When he was sure they were gone he reattached the leg. Pain shot through him like a knife and he hissed. God he hoped that this insanity wasn't going on in Risembool.

**ALCHEMIST**

Al washed the front windows of the shop. Morning sunlight spilled in, setting the skin of his face prickling. After all these months he still loved the feel of sun on his skin, even the thin cold sun of late fall.

He missed Ed. The place was just too quiet without him.

He looked at the sign wavering in the wind. It no longer said Elric Brothers. Not after the letter. It simply said Alchemist. Nice and generic. No need to associate Al with his brother, not with what appeared to be happening to the State.

At first it had been little things. Supplies he'd ordered had come in late and opened. Prices were sky rocketing as surcharges and taxes were added to every possible thing Al could think of. Then there was news about new factories opening up in surrounding towns, all for the war effort. Ed refused to pay attention to these things, but Al couldn't ignore them.

They frightened him. This was not the Army he'd been loosely attached to for four years. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something much bigger and more dangerous than he'd ever conceived of.

With Ed gone, Al bought every paper he could get his hands on, and what he read was worrisome, too. Although the stories were endlessly optimistic, little troubling details slipped through. Such as the fact that now a new neighbor was being demonized. Hell this country was on the other side of the State. The Fuhrer couldn't possibly mean to open war on two fronts? Could he?

And then there was the constant recruitment blitz by the army. On radio, in posters, in the paper. Proud men and women in uniform proclaiming how wonderful life was for them. If the war were going that well, there wouldn't be this insatiable need for new recruits.

There had been other ads aimed at people just like him. Alchemists wanted. No State Alchemy Test required. All levels of talent welcomed. We will train.

Al shuddered. He considered removing the word "Alchemist" from the sign as well.

Just then he noticed two vans pulling up outside the store. Several uniformed men jumped out of the leading van. They made a beeline to Al's store. Damn, were they after Ed again?

Al stepped out of the way as three rather burly men walked in the store. "Can I help –" was all Al was able to get out before he felt rough hands on his upper arms and himself being spun around and pressed against the wet glass.

"Are you the Alchemist?" asked the man pinning him, pulling his left arm painfully up behind his back.

"I'm not Edward Elric," gasped Al. "He doesn't work here anymore."

"That's not what I asked you."

"Of course he's the alchemist," said another, a lieutenant by the stripes. Al strained his head to see what the military men were doing. In the corner of his eye he saw the second one slipping behind the counter and looking into the workroom. After a moment he looked back. "And if not, he's still useful. He looks to be an extra small. Chambers run out and get a kit. Martin, bring him in here."

Twisting Al's arm high behind his back the goon shoved him roughly towards the back room. "I don't see any arrays left out. Good." The one holding Al tossed him not so gently against a wall and stood between him and the door.

"What do you want," gasped Al, tears beginning to form in the corner of his eyes. He rubbed his left shoulder. "I haven't done anything."

"Of course not," said the lieutenant. "I want you to strip."

"What?" Al couldn't believe his ears. He felt his face turn red.

"All off. Quickly. And nothing funny. Are there any arrays on you?"

"No."

"No tattoos or jewelry?"

"No!"

"Well, we'll see for ourselves." The two of them cocked their guns at Al to make their point clearer.

For the first time in his life Al wished he was still armor. If he'd been armor he wouldn't have had to assert himself. He would have faced these two down just by being. They wouldn't have been able to manhandle him. He wouldn't have been afraid of the guns in their hands.

When he was armor he'd been big and strong and darned close to invincible.

Al realized why Ed had been so sensitive about his height, because he never felt so helpless and small before. What would Ed do in this situation? Be cocky, of course. Probably transmute his arm into a blade. Fight his way out. Al couldn't do that. Without chalk and time he was nothing more than the strength of his arms, and even though he had practiced and worked at it, he was still nowhere near as good a fighter as his brother. Nowhere near what he had once been. Nowhere near good enough to go against two physically fit men nearly twice his weight and armed.

Al looked hopelessly at the guns, then reluctantly pulled off his shirt. The leader gestured for him to continue, and with his face red with shame Al had stripped to his boxers, showing them that he had no arrays tattooed on his skin. "Are you satisfied?" he asked.

"Shorts too."

Al gasped with exasperation. "What kind of pervert would tattoo an array down there?" It was just the sort of thing Ed would have said in the situation.

That got Martin snickering, but the lieutenant remained stony faced. "I'm following orders. All off." So the shorts went, too.

"So," said Al after a moment. "Can I put my clothes back on?"

"No arrays. Good."

Chambers entered the back room with a small canvas bag. He tossed it at Al who grabbed it. "You can put these on."

Inside were pants and a long sleeved shirt in bright yellow, socks and sandals. Miserably inadequate for the weather. As if to make up for that there was a blanket at the bottom. Al put them on quickly and draped the blanket over his shoulders. "Why are you doing this?"

Martin grinned and recited an obviously well practiced speech, "You have been selected to join the Army, congratulations recruit. You will come with us immediately to the sorting center where you will be processed and assigned to a training facility." Martin's hand was on Al's upper arm. "If you prove your talents you may be assigned to a building division or alchemical assembly line, or if you are good enough or even to research and development. You may even be selected to take part in the State Alchemists Exam in spring. If you choose not to demonstrate your talents you will be sent to the front with the regular enlisted. Do you understand?"

Al's brain was barely working. They weren't kidnapping him. They couldn't mean this. It wasn't happening. And what of Ed, what would Ed do when he found out Al was missing?

"Does anyone else work here?" asked Martin.

"No," choked Al. "It's just me. I need to make arrangements. Who is going to take care of the shop?"

"We can give the key to the neighbors if you like." They then pushed him out of the store and into the waiting van.

**AUTOMAIL ENGINEERS**

Pinako put down the phone. Her face was far more dour than normal. "Winry we need to go into town at once. Something has happened to Al."

Winry put her hand involuntarily to her chest. "Is he hurt? What happened to him?"

"That was his neighbor. Some military dogs came by and took him this morning."

Winry's eyes opened wide. "They must have mistaken him for Ed."

Pinako nodded. "We better go and see what we can sort out of this situation."

It was days like this that Winry wished that they owned a horse or some other vehicle. Though she longed to run full out, Pinako wouldn't be able to keep up. So in the end she bit her lip and walked with straight-legged determination into town. By the time she reached the shop she had formulated all sorts of nasty words in her mind, ready to unleash them on the first person in a uniform she encountered.

Despite what the neighbor had said about shutting up the shop, the door was open when they arrived. From down in the shop proper, Pinako and Winry could hear sounds of things being thrown about upstairs. Winry's heart slammed in her chest and she raced up the stairs ahead of her grandmother.

She rounded the landing to catch two men in military uniforms by surprise. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at the chaos around the room. Every drawer had been emptied. Alchemical equipment, clothes, dishes, even food was strewn around on the floor.

"What are you DOING!" she screamed at them.

The one with brick red hair straightened up first, then reached into the pocket of his overcoat and presented her a piece of paper. "This house is Edward Elric's last known address. We have orders to search it for evidence."

"Evidence of what!" said Pinako as she reached the top of the stairs. "You folks are out of line. Where is Alphonse? What are you doing with his belongings? He is not one of your dogs, you have no right to destroy his house."

"Alphonse?" said the dark haired one. Winry caught sight of an array on his belt when he stood up. "Alphonse Elric? So he isn't wearing the armor anymore. Interesting. And we thought he was just an employee. That makes things different."

Winry's heart skipped a beat. "What are you planning on doing with him?"

"That really isn't your concern."

Tears sprang up in her eyes. "Yes it is!" Her body vibrated with emotion. "He is… family."

"I see. Are you an alchemist, then, too?" Winry didn't like the dark man's smile. It was oily.

"We are automail engineers," said Pinako, proudly defiant. "We are the folks that put your type back together when you get your parts blown off. My sons died in service for you. We do not deserve this kind of disrespect."

The two military men met eyes briefly, exchanging a secret smile. "The Army needs automail engineers as well."

Winry took a step back as they closed in on her.


	4. Chapter 4

**CATTLE CAR**

 

Lieutenant Heyes ushered the new recruits onto the train. "Hup, hup, hup, fellows, move in and sit down!" He saw the yellow pants and shirt of one of them, and reached out a hand to snag the boy. "You, front row."

Alchemist. Damn he hated when he bagged an alchemist, you could never be sure they were fully disarmed. Who knew what they were capable of. Maybe only fixing a broken vase, maybe exploding a building across the street. This one looked harmless enough, baby faced innocent and effeminate, but you could never tell. In fact, Heyes was pretty sure that this one would be more trouble than most since his superiors were so pleased at his induction. At least it was only the one this time.

The alchemist took a seat on the first bench and quickly was joined by a pretty young thing with long blond hair and a rose print dress poking out under her winter parka. The two cuddled together, arms around each other.

 _Aw,_ thought Heyes. _Alchemist's gotta girlfriend. How precious._ They stared at him, her with outright defiance, and him with a calm you-can't-touch-me detachment.

The rest of the recruits took their seats, filling up the entirety of the car. Forty-two fresh-faced conscripts ready for the mill. Everything from snot nosed teens on up to young looking thirty-somethings, men and women mixed in roughly equal numbers. Heyes waited until they had settled down a bit before clapping his hands for their attention.

"Listen up recruits." What little talking quieted down. "My name is Lieutenant Heyes, and I am here to welcome you into the Army. Right now you are nothing but conscripts. I don't know your names, I don't _want_ to know your names. I don't care. When you get to the sorting center you will _earn_ a right to have a name again, but for now, you are meat.

"I am not here to baby sit you. I am not here to hold your hands in the dark. I don't care if your aunt needs you to milk the cow in the morning, or your little sister is waiting for you to return home, or your wife is about to have a baby. I don't care. You fill my quota. That is all I care about. If you displease me, or any of my people, you _will_ be shot, and at the next stop I'll simply pull someone else off the streets to replace you.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

The recruit's eyes were wide now. There was some mumbled reply but most just looked scared.

"I am your _god_ for this trip. I will tell you when to eat, when to sleep. If I tell you to take a piss out the window, you will do so." The last line wasn't an idle threat, the door to the head had gotten jammed once and that was precisely what the recruits had had to do. It had been funny really, especially watching the women try to do it.

He looked over to the Alchemist and his girl. "And this ride ain't no love cruise either. You two get too fresh with each other and I'm hauling you back to the baggage car. You can put on a show for any of my people that care to watch. Hope you take requests."

They abruptly separated and put their hands in their laps.

Heyes kept his eyes on the alchemist. "Some one up there loves you, but that's not going to do you any good. If you even l _ook_ like you are going to make an alchemy circle, I'm going to shoot _her_." He nudged his chin toward the girl.

For the first time that blank stare seemed to break, and he saw a note of fear. Good.

He gazed over the conscripts and saw nothing but terror in each. Leaning back on his heels he nodded, satisfied. The hard part was over. This was gonna be a good trip.

**HOMECOMING**

 

Ed knew there was something wrong before he even arrived at Risembool. There was a grim pall cast over the peaceful landscape. The train had passed by several hastily built factories. From the look of them, they'd been created at least partially through alchemy, as though someone didn't have the time to actually construct buildings properly.

The station itself seemed less populated than one would normally expect. Trains didn't stop in Risembool that often, and when they did there was usually at least someone either waiting or getting off, but when he stepped onto the dusty platform he was alone.

Ed slung his heavy book satchel across his chest and grabbed his suitcase and headed home. He hadn't expected Al to greet him. Al wouldn't have known when he was coming in. He could almost hear Al's soft voice admonishing him for not calling ahead of time. Still his heart was high. He was looking forward to sharing his findings, and after a long comfortable conversation and a good meal, being able to sleep in his own bed.

Ed turned the corner onto his own street, and his heart immediately sank through his shoes. The front windows of the shop were boarded up. Ed started forward then heard a voice from behind him.

"Edward!" Ed turned. He recognized one of his neighbors. "You are back!"

"Yeah, but what's going on?"

"I don't know where to start… Where have you been? Al said you weren't coming back."

Oh God, had Al misunderstood? Had he tried to follow Ed out to the West? "Where is Al?" asked Ed, grabbing the man's shoulder a bit more roughly than he intended on.

The neighbor pulled away and backed off a few steps. "He's gone. The army came for him almost a week ago."

Ed's face flushed with rage. Goddamn the Army. Retroactively refusing Ed's resignation was one thing, using Al as a hostage for his compliance was… was… just low! Ed let the neighborhood know this in uncertain terms. When he found his composure again the neighbor had fled and shutters had closed in several nearby windows.

Thinking dark thoughts Ed dug his pocket for the key and let himself into his own shop.

The front of the shop was intact, but the back room was a mess. Upstairs was even worse, though there were signs that someone had tried to push things back into place afterwards. Ed threw things back out onto the floor, searching for what he imagined he wouldn't find. Sure enough, the books he'd copied and his older research journals were gone, along with any shred of correspondence he'd kept.

Goddamn it, Mustang's letter accepting his resignation wasn't there, either.

Ed staggered back and found his knees hitting the back of his bed. He sat down suddenly as the gravity of the situation sunk in.

He didn't want to go back to the Army now. Certainly not to an Army that seemed to have turned so evil. The Fuhrer's lust for power seemed unfettered by internal conscience or external opposition. He didn't want to become a pawn to that madman's ambition. Or worse, they could follow up on their threat and put Ed in prison. God, he didn't want to go to prison.

  
But he couldn’t let Al suffer at their hands either. _Oh, hell, Al. I did it to you, again. Why do you always have to pay the price for my mistakes? I never ever wanted you to suffer._ Ed covered his face with his metal hand, feeling the hardness of his fingers through the glove _. I'll never be forgiven for my sins, he thought. It was crazy of me to think that I could ever live a happy life._

Ed let himself drop back onto the mattress, staring blankly at the empty ceiling. _How much will I have to atone? When will it ever be considered equivalent? Huh, God? When will you just say I've done enough._

The phone rang. Ed's heart slammed in his chest. They already knew he was here. How could they already know? Who had ratted him out?

The phone rang. Ed continued to stare at the ceiling. What would he say? Five years in prison is what that letter had threatened. Five stupid wasted years. Five horrible boring years. He'd be almost 23 when he got out. And what would Al do during all those years? Would he even be allowed to visit? Would they let him write? Would they even allow him to keep his automail, or would he be left a cripple the entire time?

The phone rang.

But what would they do with Al if he didn't. The country was so vast, how could Ed hope to find him without being caught?

The phone rang, and Ed jogged over to picked it up. "I'm here," he said dully into the receiver.

"Ed, oh thank God, boy." It was Pinako. "I heard you had come back to town…. You know then."

"Yeah, I'm back. The assholes took Al. I can't believe it."

"They took more than that, Ed," said Pinako. "They took Winry as well… and a couple dozen others."

Ed's eyes widened, and his voice caught in his chest. "Just because of me?"

"No, it's the conscriptors. Ed," Pinako's voice softened, "I never thought I'd ask you to do this. You have always been such a strong kid. You need to do something about this Fuhrer. Someone has to stop him, bring some sanity back to this world."

"You're asking me to commit treason?"

There was a gasp. "No… no… I'm wrong. Forget what I said. Ed, come up to the house. I've missed you. It's lonely up here with Winry gone."

"I can't," said Ed after a moment. "It's good to hear your voice, Aunty. You are right. I need to do something. I think I know what I have to do. It may be a while before I can talk to you again." And he hung up the phone before she could protest.

They could hold his body, but they couldn’t hold his spirit. They could take away his automail, but they couldn't take away his mind.  Even in jail, there might be something he could do to rectify the situation. If he even stayed in jail. Yeah, try to keep him in. He'd broken out of worse places.

Maybe he'd even see Mustang there. The thought was curiously comforting.

And Al would be free. And Winry, too. Yeah he'd go back, but it wouldn’t be for free. If they wanted him without a fight, they better be ready to put out, on HIS terms.

**NEGOTIATION**

 

The MP ushered Al into the office with a not-so-gentle shove between his shoulder blades. Al tried not to stagger, wishing he could use his hands for balance, but they were firmly shackled, as were his legs. Although Al's patience was close to breaking and his stomach burned, he kept his face placid and expressionless. His eyes cased the room quickly, noted the large heavily draped windows, the flag on it's long brass pole, the pen lying casually on the desk. Then his eyes settled on the grey colorless eyes of the Lt. Colonel Avery Dunn.

"Elric, yes?" Dunn said. "The younger one, who used to wear the armor. I remember you."

Al vaguely regarded the other man, tall, neither fat nor thin, graying brown hair. "I don't remember you," he said flatly.

"I've gained a few ranks since you last saw me. And I admit that I probably didn't stand out much.

"However, you did." Dunn pushed a thick file folder into the center of the desk. Al saw his own name on it. "You stood out quite prominently, in fact. I used to wonder why you always wore the armor. Then I came across this file. It all made sense."

Dunn suddenly shifted his eyes to the MP. "You may leave. Wait outside until I summon you. If you hear any disturbance whatsoever come back in."

The MP left, and Dunn nodded towards a chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Carefully, so as not to trip, Al made his way to the chair and settled himself in it. He kept his face stony, but he began to wonder what Dunn was up to.

"Human transmutation. You know the penalty for that."

"Death."

"Yes. Actually up to now that's been something of an empty threat. No one has ever been put on trial for backing out. The act itself exacts its own price. True sometimes what's left of the Alchemist has to be put down, but that's more mercy than punishment. But you and your brother did survive… not once but twice, and with your sanity intact, that is… unprecedented. And here you are. No longer armor." He leaned forward scanning Al's features. "So this is what you really look like. Remarkable."

Al shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

"This presents something of a conundrum for us," Dunn continued. "Do we stay strictly to the law, or do we bend it? I personally believe in bending laws that don't serve the State. How about you?"

Al felt relief. This guy didn't want him dead. "What do you want? A hostage for my brother's cooperation?"

"Well I must admit that would make my life simpler. Do you think it will work? Does he love you enough to bargain for you?"

Al was silent.

Dunn chuckled. "No. While that would be nice side benefit, that isn't why you are here. Al… may I call you that?"

"I can't stop you."

"Al then, you took the written portion of the State Alchemist's exam when you were eleven, though you dropped out before the scores were posted. You passed, by the way."  
  


"Did I?"

"Oh yes, flying colors, you even did better than your brother. Also, you were as much a part of the human transmutations as your brother."

"But I didn't survive."

"That's disputable. And you were a partner to your brother on most of his missions when he was in the Army. An unofficial partner but a partner none the less. Your researching skills are well documented. As is your ability to think your way out of sticky situations. And you were able to use alchemy as well or better than most Alchemists. As armor."

Dunn tilted his head. "What makes you think that the Army would only be interested in your brother? Do you really so undervalue yourself?"

Al's breath hitched in.

"I see. And actually, of the two of you, you have the far more amenable temperament. This isn't to say I would turn away Fullmetal if he were to walk through the door and give himself up. But I wouldn't consider it a complete loss if he remains out in the wilderness."

"What do you want?"

"Your cooperation. Your brilliance. Your skills. Put to the Army's aims. There is already a bid for your assignment."

"What is in this for me," said Al. "I could just decide not to research or perform alchemy. I'm not much use to you then."

"Well, no you wouldn't be. I suppose I can put you on the front lines like a normal conscript. You could be sent off to a training camp and given the standard two weeks of indoctrination. They would show you how to use a gun and a knife and teach you standard protocol. They would give you the very basics in combat and strategy, nothing you probably don't already know or couldn't figure out for yourself. Then you'd go off to fight. Maybe you'd survive the first month, in fact I dare say, you might do quite well for yourself out there. It is quite possible you could serve the Fuhrer admirably in that regard. But it would be an utter waste of your abilities. A true shame."

"My abilities are mine to waste," Al said quietly. He glanced at the pen left so enticingly out on the desk.

Dunn followed his gaze but made no move. "Maybe. Or maybe instead I might throw you in the brig, and the person I send to the front will be this person. He pulled out another file and laid it on the desk. This file was very thin, almost non-existent. Al saw the name "Rockbell, Winry."

Al couldn't prevent the frown from forming on his face.

Dunn awarded Al a thin smile. "You are fond of her. She's quite a talented automail engineer I hear. She could serve the Army quite well here in Central. There is an excellent rehabilitation hospital not more than six blocks from where you would be working. I imagine the two of you could see each other quite often, your shifts allowing."

Al refused to give him any sign that his words might be working, but his mind couldn't stop thinking about seeing Winry, even if just a few hours here and there. Would working for the Army really be so different than working in the shop? And with such a build up about his own abilities, there was little doubt that the work would be a challenging intellectual exercise at minimum.

Dunn continued, "Or perhaps she will get those two weeks training and go to the front. She may make an excellent foot soldier as well. Those arms of hers look quite strong, and she's fiery, I hear."

Al's ears burned. "So if I agree to use my abilities, she will get assigned to a nearby hospital."

"Absolutely."

"I can trust you on that."

"You will be able to trust your own eyes. In fact you agree to this, I'll have that MP take off your shackles and you can walk out of here like any other volunteer."

"Very well then," said Al heavily. "So what now?"

Dunn slid over another paper. "You sign these enlistment papers of your own free will."

Slowly Al put his hands on the desk. His fingers found that pen that had lain there all that time. Dunn watched and they met eyes for a moment, understanding the conflict going on in Al's mind.

Then Al signed his name on the line.


	5. Chapter 5

  
  
  
****

**BOOKS**

****  
  
They moved Roy out of his cell and into another built much the same way only completely underground. Roy wasn't sure it was an improvement. On the one hand, the cell was larger and contained a second bed and a built in desk. On the other, it lacked the narrow high window and that streak of sunlight Roy used to watch creep across the walls.  
  
The second bed though. That was something. After a year of solitary confinement, company, anyone's company, was something to cherish.

The Thug visited him again, sitting on the second bed. "You start working tomorrow. We've prepared a laboratory for you. You won't be allowed your gloves, but you will be given access to writing equipment and paper."  
  
"Don't you think that's risky?"  
  
"Should I?" The Thug eyed him over. "You know what I think? I think you are beat. I think you've had a long, long time to think over your life and your options. I think that you _want_ to work for me, just out of sheer boredom. I don't think you would try to escape even if the possibility was left open. Which it won't be.  
  
"If you behave yourself, we may even be able to assign you a research partner."  
  
Roy held himself steady. He was already hopeful of having some company, but having the company of an intellectual equal, an alchemist…. They were pulling out all the stops on this one. They must really want his cooperation.  
  
"Until then, I have brought you over some reading material for tonight." The Thug stood up tapped on the small glass window and then called out through the tray slit. "Hey-ya, bring them over." Three gaurds entered the room each with an armload of books.  
  
Roy's eyes were wide. Never in twelve months had he been given this wealth of material to work with. If he was lucky, he was given a book or two a month, but this, this was almost too much.  
  
"I can't possibly read all of that in one night," said Roy.  
  
"We wouldn't expect you to," assured the Thug. "You can read which ever of these books strike your fancy, as deeply or shallowly as you like. They won't be taken away. No notes though, at least not for tonight. Just peruse them. Look for a connection between them. What does all this have in common. I'll come by for an oral report tomorrow morning at 900 hours."  
  
The Thug opened the door and ushered the gaurds out, but then paused a genuine smile on his face. "Now, remember to sleep tonight, too. Tomorrow the real work starts."  
  
The Thug left.  
  
Roy stood up and crossed the room to the desk, now piled precariously high with books. His hands were shaking. Where to begin? He lifted the first book, savoring the smell, the feel of the leather cover under his fingertips. He flipped quickly through the pages. Theory, some sketched arrays. Sweet.   
  
He put it down and grabbed a second book.   
  
Curious... this wasn't about alchemy at all. It was an anatomy book. Interesting. And this one was a volume on philosophy and ethics of experimentation. An in-depth treatise on the construction of blind and double-blind tests. Medical Ethics. The care and breeding of rabbits. Pharmacology. And here, this one was a personal notebook.  
  
He opened the pages. Coded, naturally, as many Alchemists choose to code their work. Roy felt a fierce joy. Something to wrap his brain about and shake the cobwebs out at last. The code itself seemed simple enough, but without pen and paper to write it down it took real concentration to break. The handwriting though was somewhat familiar. And there was something about the choice of code words and abbreviations…  
  
Ah, this was Edward's notebook.  
  
Did that mean that they had caught him?  
  
Did that mean …? Roy's breath caught.  
  
  
 ****

**RANK**

****  
  
A lot of being in the Army appeared to be waiting, punctuated by brief interviews with various people. Al had waited in a truck for the train. Waited in the train for a truck. Waited in a warehouse filled with the smell of fear and sweat for someone to "sort" him. Waited for the interview with Dunn. Waited for a uniform. Waited for papers. Waited for his turn at the Mess hall. Waited to be handed a dorm assignment for the night. Waited for orientation. And now he was waiting in yet another anonymous office lobby for someone to take him to where he would be working.  
  
He never saw the same faces twice. And despite Dunn's assurance, he'd never even glimpsed Winry. None of the people he'd spoken to along the way even knew her name. He hoped she hadn't been sent on with the rest of the conscripts by accident.  
  
The secretary put down the phone at her desk and called over to him. "Specialist Elric, he's ready for you. Third door on the right."  
  
Al followed her directions and arrived at a long narrow office, crammed with three desks, a plethora of filing cabinets and boxes, and a couple mismatched stools. At the desk farthest from the door, a lean man with black hair slicked down against his neck vaguely gestured for him to come in and take a seat on one of the stools.  
  
"Forgive the mess," said the man. He stood, holding his hand out over the desk for a shake. "I'm in the process of being moved to a new office."   
  
Al reluctantly shook his hand. As he did so, he noted the watch chain attached to a belt loop, and then his eye caught on the man's belt buckle. An alchemical array was engraved into the silver. Something to do with light. Al let go and sat down.  
  
"I'm Andrew Gardner, the Midnight Alchemist."  
  
"Midnight. Poetic."  
  
"Yes." He cleared his voice awkwardly. "Well, I suppose it was better than the first name they planned on giving me. I was hoping for Light Alchemist, but apparently that was taken. Dark Alchemist made me sound so sinister. The Fuhrer was generous enough to reconsider." He leaned back in his chair. "Of course, my specialty is bending light waves."  
  
"You don't say."  
  
"Yes, and you'd be surprised how useful such a skill is. But in any case, this really has nothing to do with you." Midnight tapped his chin. "Do you have a specialty yet? Your brother tends to go for creating physical objects, walls, weapons and the like. What do you prefer to do?"  
  
"Well until lately, it was fixing dolls and repairing toasters," said Al, blandly.  
  
"And making exact replicas of books."  
  
Al's eyes narrowed. Midnight smiled. "It didn't seem to be your brother's style. You are a more _nuanced_ alchemist, aren't you. Not so much show, more detail. I've read your notebooks. One of my people broke the codes you and your brother used. So you are thinking about medical alchemy as your next project."  
  
"If you read our notebooks, then you wouldn't need to ask."  
  
Midnight smiled. "Surprisingly enough, one of the projects that I am involved with is along the lines of medical alchemy. Not precisely the kind you and your brother were researching, but close enough. I already have one alchemist on the project, and a team of scientists and technicians to back him up. I plan to add you and one more, if possible, later. I myself will occasionally pop in to help, but my expertise is rather stretched thin these days. Needless to say, I will not be micromanaging you.  
  
"But I do expect reports and results. Even if the results are negative. I don't want to you to sugar coat anything. Don't give me false hope, don't falsify evidence. Don't slack off either, because I will know the difference."  
  
Al felt vaguely insulted. "I keep my word. I've yet to see if your people have kept theirs."  
  
"Ah, yes. Winry Rockbell." Midnight seemed to savor the name. "She throws a mean punch, you know." He touched his chin. Al could see the remnants of a bruise. "As we speak, she is being settled into the residents quarters behind the Central Rehabilitation Hospital. After you've seen the lab and your new quarters, you will be free to walk over and see her. I can sketch you a map if you need one. Forgive me if I don't choose to accompany you."  
  
Al felt a surge of relief. He was tempted to ask why and when Winry had thrown a punch at Midnight but other questions were more pressing. "What is this medical alchemy you want me to be involved with."  
  
Midnight blinked. "Put simply, we are looking for an alchemical cure for battle fatigue."  
  
"Battle fatigue?"  
  
"Mental illness strikes even the most seasoned and valuable members of the military. It can render an alchemist or soldier worse than useless, and even when they are retired, they have difficulty readjusting back into the community. Last week, a Major was taken from the front lines for shooting indiscriminately at his own troops. He claimed he was putting them out of their misery. We brought him back and he turned on the nurses in the hospital, breaking one woman's neck before throwing himself out the window to his death. If we had an alchemical way of restoring his peace of mind… just consider it. Consider the pain and misery that could be prevented."  
  
Al nodded avidly. His mind was already sifting through possible array combinations.  
  
"Have you considered trying out for State Alchemist this spring?"  
  
The change of subject caught Al off guard. "I don't see the point in it. I'm already doing alchemy for the military. I don't need a fancy name."  
  
Midnight smiled broadly. "There is Military and then there is _Military._ For one thing, you will get the watch. For another, your rank will be increased to officer grade. With rank you will have more say to what projects you work on, as well as having better pay, better quarters, better working conditions, better hours and vacation. I'd consider it. I think you could go far with us."  
  
Al felt a smile beginning to form on his lips, the first one since being captured over a week before.  
  
 ****

**INTRODUCTIONS**

****  
  
Roy paused in taking notes to tap his pencil against his chin. It felt good to be writing again. It had been so long, his fingers were clumsy and his handwriting off. Twelve months during which he had been forbidden to hold anything more pointed than a spoon. He felt a strong urge to draw a fire array – not that he wanted fire, but just for the sheer sensual pleasure of creating it. Even without a spark, the itch to feel the oxygen gather and concentrate between his fingers was almost overpowering.  
  
He did not dare. Although he was allowed a pencil and paper, he was told no arrays. This job was too precious to lose. Who knew how long they'd shelve him, alone and bored stupid, if he tempted fate now. A lifetime of staring at empty walls… he shuddered to think of it.  
  
The door to his workroom opened, but he didn't bother to look up. Guards changed shifts, exchanged messages. It didn't matter. If they wanted him they'd call his name.  
  
"Attention!"  
  
As though a string had been pulled, Roy turned in his chair and stood at attention. He saw Midnight enter the room, and behind him…Roy's eyes narrowed.  
  
For just the briefest seconds he thought it was Edward, but no. The height was similar, as was the build. Same fine boned features. Same long hair. But the coloring was off. Where Ed's hair was sunny and his eyes gold, this one's eyes were a grey-hazel and his hair the color of dark honey.  
  
"Al?" asked Roy.  
  
Al's eyes met his and Roy saw a flash of recognition, followed by surprise and concern. "Colonel!"  
  
"I'm not a Colonel anymore, Al," said Roy carefully, aware that Midnight was watching both their reactions. He took in Al's uniform, and noticed the stripes. "In fact, right now you outrank me. Specialist, eh?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"You don't need to call him, sir," said Midnight. "He's a private. The lowest rank in the Army, same as those conscripts you rode in with." Midnight then turned to him. "I leave it to you to show him the ropes around here. Just get him briefed on the project, then Al you can go, find your girl. Would you like that map?"  
  
"No, sir," said Al, not looking away from Roy. "I know the city. It hasn't changed that much."  
  
Midnight nodded and, with a quick look of warning to Roy, he left the room.  
  
"Are you alright, sir?" asked Al.  
  
"You better not call me 'sir', Al," said Roy, trying hard to keep the trembling out of his voice. Roy's heart was beating hard. Just seeing a friendly face, even if it wasn't one he recognized, just knowing the soul in front of him was a true friend, and not someone collecting evidence to use against him… but he didn't want to frighten Al with his intensity, so he choked it back and tried to hide it behind hands that wouldn't hold still and a voice that was just a bit too abrupt. "It will only get both of us in trouble. Call me Roy."  
  
Al blinked. He looked around the room, eyes pausing on the guard by the door.  
  
"They don't want you showing any sort of deference to me. They are afraid it might give me ideas. We are partners in this project, I'm not your superior."  
  
"Are you alright, Roy?" asked Al in a softer voice.  
  
Roy couldn't keep the laugh of relief out of his voice. "Better now than I've been for twelve months. Come, let me explain what I've discovered so far."


	6. Chapter 6

**SURRENDER**

****  
  
Dunn was not surprised when he heard a commotion outside his office. He wasn't surprised when the door banged open and a petite but very angry man stomped his way into the middle of the room. He _was_ taken aback a bit by the sheer intensity of the glare on the young man's face. Thank goodness looks couldn't kill.  
  
An MP ran in steps behind him, but Dunn shook his head and with a practiced wave sent the soldier back outside again.   
  
It was expected.  
  
In fact it was overdue. There had been Elric sightings here and there around Central for several days. Two nights ago, someone had broken into the warehouse where the conscripts were kept. It was a mess tracking down and gathering up the selectees. Perhaps a few even managed to escape, it was hard to tell because they hadn't all been sorted yet, and no one knew their names. That same night someone had broken into Central Records and left quite a mess for the clerks to sort out the next morning. Dunn felt mild relief knowing that he had Alphonse Elric and Winry Rockbell's files still secure in his own cabinets. It had remained quiet through the day but the next night there were a series of almost desperate break ins, in each case there was considerable property damage, and files and papers left haphazardly thrown about, but nothing actually removed.  
  
And now here was Fullmetal in the flesh.  
  
"You are late," said Dunn. He glanced at his watch. "About 10 weeks late to be precise."  
  
"I'm not here to be reassigned," Fullmetal growled. "I'm here for my brother. Where is he?"  
  
"Let's talk about the terms of your surrender," said Dunn, smoothly.  
  
Fullmetal launched himself over the desk, knocking Dunns coffee mug in one direction and spilling his papers across the floor. He grabbed the Lt. Colonel in his metal fist and hauled him up out of his chair.  
  
Dunn gasped as his own collar choked him and he stood awkwardly to relieve the pressure, both of his hands around the other's wrist. "Killing me won't give you what you want," Dunn managed to say.  
  
"But it will give me some satisfaction," said Fullmetal. The grip loosened, and then Fullmetal let him drop back into his seat. "Where is Al? I'm not going to ask you again."  
  
The door opened. Dunn smiled with relief. About time!  
  
Fullmetal clapped his hands together and a blade shredded his sleeve. He spun around to attack the newcomer. Dunn saw an alchemical flash and suddenly Fullmetal staggered, regained his footing but seemed suddenly lost and befuddled, his bladed arm waving randomly around. When he turned about, Dunn saw that his wide open eyes were shining an unearthly silver.  
  
Midnight ushered the MPs in.   
  
Even blinded Fullmetal didn't go down without a fight. One MP got a deep slash across his chest and another a solid kick to his solar plexus, but it was still six on one and soon they had him pinned to the floor. "Get the automail off," ordered Midnight.  
  
Fullmetal screamed incoherently and tried to bite, but his eyes, wide and blinking, stared at nothing, and his attacks were to no avail. Within moments he had turned from rabid out-of-control alchemist to pathetic crippled youth.  
  
Midnight scooped him up off the floor with relative ease and sat him in the chair in front of Dunn's desk. Dunn nodded, "You can let him see now." And Fullmetal's eyes returned to their normal golden hue.  
  
"Let's discuss the terms of your surrender," said Dunn, again.  
  
Fullmetal spat at him.  
  
Midnight grabbed his shoulder, and jammed his thumb through the cloth of his sleeve into the vacant automail port. Fullmetal bit back a scream.  
  
"Let's discuss the terms of your surrender like human beings, not wild animals."  
  
"Don't toy with me, " said Fullmetal. "I can't go anywhere."  
  
"I'm not talking about taking custody of your body," said Dunn. "I'm talking about you surrendering to us. You cooperating with us." Dunn allowed a bit of anger to tinge his voice. "I'm talking about me finding _some_ way to salvage your career and keep you out of prison for the foreseeable future."  
  
"Why do you care about my career?"  
  
"I care about my country. I care about not losing a valuable resource during war. I don't know why you are so angry with me. This army was your home for years, why treat us like the enemy now?"  
  
Fullmetal slouched back in the chair. "You can hardly expect me to be happy when you hold my own brother against his will. You've got me now. You can let him go."  
  
Dunn shook his head. "What makes you think we are keeping your brother against his will?" Dunn reached into his desk and pulled out Al's rather massive file. He didn't feel comfortable sharing the entire thing with Fullmetal, but he was quickly able to find the pages he needed, and he closed the file and put it away again before the other could really see what was in there.  
  
Fullmetal looked confused when Dunn turned the pages around and slid them in front of him.   
  
"This is a forgery," but Fullmetal's voice was uncertain.  
  
"He signed the enlistment papers of his own free will. He is, even as we speak, walking around Central with his girlfriend."  
  
"That can't be true!" said Fullmetal, and there was desperation in his voice.  
  
"You don't believe he would sign on with us, simply because _you_ don't want him to be part of the Army? That is awfully selfish of you. In fact, I've noticed a lot of selfishness in your relationship with your brother."  
  
"No," said Fullmetal, but Dunn saw the doubt and pressed.  
  
"For example, you think we came for him because he was related to you. Would it surprise you to know that you weren't even a factor? We wanted him because he's brilliant and talented in his own right. He's a human being, not a tool there for your convenience."  
  
"I don't think of him that way."  
  
"And yet you think no one should value him other than yourself. Awfully selfish. The signature is genuine, and if you doubt it, you can have an opportunity to ask him yourself." Ed's eyes opened wide. "If," said Dunn. "You surrender."  
  
"If he is free, then why should I surrender? What is in it for me?"  
  
Dunn smiled. "Why _your_ life, that's what. I have it in my capacity to have you sentenced to five years for desertion alone. Add on top of that all the destruction and mayhem you've caused over the last couple of days, plus assault on two MPs and on myself, a superior officer. I imagine there is a good 20 years or more that you could spend behind bars. Do you really wish to waste your entire youth in a jail cell? I can tell you it's not pleasant. Or are you willing to swallow a little pride and allow me to negotiate a way back into the Army's good graces?"  
  
Fullmetal said nothing. He looked truly young for a moment. The fight had gone almost entirely out of him.  
  
"And honestly, do you think locking you away for such a long time is what Al would have wanted? Don't get me wrong, I understand your sentiment, the outrage at being denied retirement, especially when you were led to believe it was your right to leave whenever you wished. You can blame Mustang for that one. He probably thought you would dance for him better if you thought staying in the army was your idea."  
  
The anger was coming back into Fullmetals eyes. Dunn bit his lip. This wasn't the time to gnaw that particular bone. "And I can see your anger at having your plans for your shop put on hold. But that's really all it is, on hold until the end of the war. You can have it all again, if you are willing to be patient and offer a bit of cooperation."  
  
"Get to the point. What do you want," said Ed. "And what do I get out of it."  
  
"How about this to start. I put you in prison for 6 months. It's as short a stay as I think I can get away with. If you think the rank and file didn't notice your antics, you are mistaken. Without some meaningful punishment, I would just be encouraging others to misbehave."  
  
"Six months. I can live with that. What else?"  
  
"Well, if we weren't at war, that would be it. But we are at war, so I can sweeten the deal a bit more for you. I will give you the opportunity to work with your brother. Same lab, same project, _during_ your incarceration. In return for your cooperation and good behavior. You will be escorted to and from your cell each workday. You will not be allowed to go anywhere else, and in every other way you will be treated like an average prisoner."  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
"No. Your arm will be confiscated for the duration of your incarceration. As a safety precaution. Understand that allowing you unlimited access to alchemy cannot be allowed. It would be far too tempting for you to try to escape. Your leg on the other hand will be returned to you as soon as you agree to these terms."  
  
"And at the end of six months?"  
  
"You are released. You recertify as a State Alchemist, and we give you back your watch. Then you will be reassigned the way you would have been if you had just come in when the letter told you to. As a State Alchemist you will be given some latitude with your assignments, so long as they serve the State. You were an impressive field agent. I imagine you would be again."  
  
"And the alternative."  
  
"You continue to fight and spit and generally make a nuisance of yourself, and we lock you away until you have more grey than gold in your hair."  
  
Fullmetal looked down at his hand. "Very well."  
  
Dunn smiled. "Welcome back, Fullmetal."  
  
Once the MPs had led a much more docile Fullmetal out of his office, Dunn turned to Midnight. "Are you sure you want to use him? He's not tame."  
  
"Yeah, who would have thought someone that tiny could pack such a punch? You know, I don't think he even weighs a hundred pounds with the automail off. What a spitfire." Midnight shook his head admiringly. "Oh, don't worry, I'll turn him into a useful cog, you'll see. To start with I think a week in solitary might make him more receptive." Midnight picked up a few of Dunns papers and set them back on the desk. "Guilt seems a good motivator, too. And he's very loyal to those he loves." Midnight smiled. "I have six months to work with. That's quite a bit of time. And if it's not enough, I'll simply provoke him until he's earned a bit more."  
  
Dunn touched his neck; he still felt the sting of Fullmetal's grip. "Better you than me."  
  
  
 ****

**CERFEW**

****  
  
Most of the women on Winry's shift were jealous. They'd hang out the windows of the resident's quarters when Al came by and whistle and cat call at the two of them. Al was a good enough sport though, giving them a flirtatious smile and a salute, and sometimes even blowing kisses until Winry put an end to it by punching him in the side … just a bit too roughly.  
  
They gossiped about Al when he wasn't around, saying how cute he was and asking Winry, hopefully, if he had a brother.  
  
"Actually he does," Winry told a group of four of them. They were taking a break in the shop. "He's just as cute, but he's got the personality of a hand grenade."  
  
"Ooh, I'd love to meet him," said one. "Is he enlisted too?"  
  
"I don't know where he is," said Winry. "I'm hoping he's far away from here, though."  
  
There were rumors about some masked intruder breaking into the conscript's quarters and setting them free. That had most of the staff laughing with delight. Half of her coworkers, Winry found out, were either conscripted themselves, or else they had been working at the hospital from the beginning, and had found out in a morning meeting that, hey guess what, their employer had changed. None were overly thrilled at being in the Army.  
  
The work wasn't bad. In fact it was the same work Winry had always done. The pace was a bit more rushed than she liked, but clients were nice enough, and the MP on duty didn't hassle them. In general it was easy to forget that you couldn't just up and quit. She'd even been able to phone Granny Pinako several times. And then there was Al, who was, Winry had to admit, extremely good looking in a uniform.  
  
It would be easy to forget that she'd been blinded and her arm twisted so hard she was afraid it would break, and then slung kicking and screaming into a car. It was easy to forget the terrible days on the train and in the conscripts' quarters, when she'd been treated like no more than meat, and the least error of judgment would have meant instant death. Or the very real and continuing fear that, should they misbehave, she and Al would never see each other again. In fact, Winry tried very hard _not_ to remember how bad it could be, but she still had the nightmares at night.  
  
The next day, inexplicably, there was not one but four MPs on duty during her shift.   
  
Al had arrived just after her shift ended to take her to dinner at the hospital's mess. He noticed the MPs milling around looking bored and his face hardened.  
  
"Do you think Ed's the one causing the trouble," Winry whispered.  
  
"I hope not," said Al. He then looked down at the floor.   
  
"It's just, I don't know of any other reason why they would increase the guard around here," said Winry.  
  
"This is my fault. He's always getting in trouble when I'm not around."  
  
They arrived at the mess. It wasn't quite like the comfortable wood table in Al's apartment, and the cooking wasn't as tasty. But just so long as they didn't talk about Ed, or Al's work, or the Army, the conversation was very, very good. As were his fingers on her wrist, tracing the veins, lightly following the curve of her palm, running out to the thumb.  
  
She wished there were some place where they could have privacy, but she roomed with five other women, and she wasn't even allowed into the building where Al worked and slept. In the end they settled for finding an empty conference room in the hospital's administrative wing. Even there, in the dark and alone they dared do no more than kiss and run their hands over each other. Their eyes darted guiltily towards the door.  
  
Then they heard the first bell of Curfew. Al broke away and stepped back. "I gotta go."  
  
They were both taken a bit aback at the MP standing patiently outside the room, waiting to escort Al back. Winry blushed, and Al looked beaten. The MP just put a firm hand on Al's arm and led him away.  
  
Sometimes it was easy to forget she was a conscript. Other times, it was impossible.  
  
  
 ****

**HUSH MONEY**

****  
  
  
The Thug was waiting in his cell when Roy returned from work. Guard up, Roy took in the other. Not happy, not mad, just concerned. That wasn't good.  
  
"Leave," said the Thug, gesturing to the jailers, and they were alone.  
  
"You have another task for me?" asked Roy.  
  
"Yes. But first a progress report. Let me say that those above me are impressed with your work on the project. I have reports that you appear to be enjoying yourself and the company of the younger Elric."  
  
"Yes," said Roy, carefully.  
  
"They say that he seems happy as well. Very into the project."  
  
"He would like to solve the problem of combat fatigue," said Roy, and they met eyes. "Erasing bad memories. Lightening weary war-torn hearts."  
  
"Yes. Combat fatigue. A very noble cause." The Thug smiled thinly.  
  
Roy knew the project was not about combat fatigue, and the Thug knew that he knew. Perhaps a cure for it would emerge, but it would be a side benefit at most. Once you knew how to safely mess with a person's emotions and memories without otherwise damaging him, there were a lot of applications that skill could be put toward. Most of which were not even remotely noble.  
  
"We both want to make _sure_ that Elric is happy with what he is doing. Because honestly, should anything happen, we would be keeping _him_ on, and you'd be going back into solitary."  
  
Roy said nothing, but let his eyes drift downward in a sign of submission. He didn't want to be off the project. He let the Thug believe that it was because he was afraid of being alone again.   
  
In truth he was, but he wanted to work on this project for more than that reason. Because he was not quite as dispirited as he let on, and because he was enough of a bastard to be willing to compromise on morals if the pay off was high enough.  
  
"And on to the job, in a few days you will be getting a roommate. Considering who it is, and your somewhat rocky history together, it may be more punishment than reward, but I imagine you'll do fine."  
  
"What specifically do you want me to do?"  
  
"I want you to enlighten the newbie on just how miserable it is to be in jail for the rest of your life, and encourage him to cooperate with us."  
  
"So you found Fullmetal. And he's causing you problems."  
  
The Thug smiled a true smile this time. "Yes. But now our problems are yours. If you can convince him not to scream obscenities at the guards, and throw fits in the showers, he will be allowed to work with you and his brother. You can hold that out as incentive."  
  
Roy couldn't completely hide the smile.


	7. Chapter 7

  
**SOLITARY**  


****  
  
Jail wasn't just bad. It was worse than he had ever imagined.  
  
He was steeled for the taunting. He was fine with the occasional shove or even light punch. That he expected. What he hadn't expected was how thin his tolerance was for sheer unadulterated stifling boredom, or that the utter lack of privacy and respect would crawl under his skin and drive him crazy.  
  
And the rules. So _freaking_ many rules.  
  
Ed was not supposed to throw spoons at the guards. Even when they insulted his size.  
  
He was not allowed to tell them their flies were down when they weren't, or call them out on duels, or ask to spar, or complain about their body odor. He wasn't even allowed to scream "nyah, nyah, nyah!" at the top of his voice when they gave him orders. Frankly, Ed thought, they could have just told him to stop. They didn’t need the gag.  
  
He wasn't allowed to use the soap to make alchemy circles.   
  
He wasn't allowed to use his hair to make alchemy circles.   
  
He wasn't allowed to use his food to draw alchemy circles.   
  
"Unless you want to be shaved bald, fed and scrubbed by a guard I suggest you cut this out," Midnight had told him on the second day. "They are losing patience with you. I'm not sure how long I can keep you from getting really punished."  
  
Midnight was all chummy, pretending to be a friend, but Ed remembered the thumb in his automail port and wasn't buying it.  
  
The next day he was told he wasn't supposed to practice kicks against the walls, or do summersaults, or hang by his knees from the sink. They had taken away his leg. When he pretended to hang himself with his shirt in protest, they'd taken away his clothes as well.  
  
Apparently the only thing he was supposed to do was lie in his bed and stare at the empty grey walls.  
  
"How many weeks have I been here," he called out the door when a guard looked in.  
  
"Three days," the guard replied back sounding very tired.  
  
  
  
 ****

**HANDLER**

****  
  
Roy heard Ed before he saw him.  
  
"Don't touch me. I _said_ don't _touch_ me! I don't know where your hands have been, you pervert."  
  
The door to his cell opened and Fullmetal was pushed unceremoniously into the room. Roy met eyes with the guard. _All yours_ they telegraphed back. _Let's see you do something with him._ The door shut as Ed spun about and gave a one fingered salute to his escort.  
  
Ed was a mess. His hair was a loose matted haystack. His face sported a fresh bruise on one cheek. His clothes were rumpled and there was a faintly sour smell of the unwashed about him. Ed sat down on the floor then looked around, suddenly focusing in on him.  
  
"Colonel?" he gasped.  
  
"Good morning, Ed," said Roy, smiling. "Call me Roy. I'm not a Colonel anymore."  
  
"Oh, freaking hell, so are they trying to torture me now?" But the words were an empty formality. The look in Ed's eyes was of… what? Relief?  
  
Roy went along with the charade. "Apparently both of us," he drawled.  _I've missed you, too._  "So are you going for the wild man look these days? You always were so careful with your grooming."  
  
"Well, they pulled my hair down when they strip searched me. I couldn't put it back up on my own since they took the arm. And they took away the rubber band when I, uh, snapped it at one of the guards."  
  
Roy raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I had a brush for a little while, but one of the guards took it away."  
  
"Why?"   
  
Ed flushed and looked uncomfortable. He stood up and scanned the room. His eyes hit on the books piled around the desk. "Well, hey, these look familiar. Been reading up on me, eh? So what's the task that they want me to do?" He opened a book at random and flipped through the pages.  
  
Roy walked over to the desk. Ed skittered a couple steps away, leery. But Roy smiled and opened the small drawer. He pulled out the brush. "Come sit down a moment." He passed by close to Ed and whispered as softly as he could "We are being listened to." Ed straightened up.  
  
Roy patted his bed and motioned Ed to sit. "Your hair is offending me."  
  
"I can brush my own hair."  
  
"But can you pick out the tangles?" Roy tapped his lips with a finger, and rolled his eyes meaningfully at the door.  
  
Ed sat down and turned his head away. "Don't expect me to jump through your hoops anymore," he grumbled. "You aren't my boss."  
  
Roy sat as close as he thought Ed would let him, as close as he trusted himself, and began methodically to detangle Ed's hair. Ed stiffened for the first touch, but then began to relax. Roy found the first snarl and started separating the strands with his fingers, carefully, so as not to pull. Just like untying a knot.  
  
Ed sighed impatiently.  
  
Roy leaned closer and breathed into Ed's ear "You can fight them stupidly, or you can fight them smart."  
  
Ed pulled away and turned around. "Who are you calling stupid!"  
  
"You. Now sit back, I'm not done." Ed did. Old habits, Roy knew. Resistance, and then acceptance. It was the way they had always related. Ed was used to following orders from him, but never without at least a little grumbling.  
  
Roy parted another section with his fingers and began working on it, starting from the tips and working his way upwards, picking apart the snarls, then finally running the brush through the lock. The strands were soft and fine between his fingers. Roy couldn’t suppress a grin. There had been many, many, times before when he'd positively _itched_ to touch Ed's hair. Back when there was no appropriate excuse to do so, he'd suppressed the urge. How ironic that here in jail, with everything else taken from him, Roy was allowed to partake of this forbidden fruit.  
  
Ed was relaxed again. His eyes had closed and he'd actually nestled closer to his former boss. Roy took a risk and drew up his knee to slide it onto the other side of Ed. He didn't seem to notice he was now settled between Roy's legs.   
  
"How do I fight smart," whispered Ed.  
  
"Do you trust me?" asked Roy, starting on a new lock.  
  
Hesitation. "Yes. But I don't like guessing. Don't keep me in the dark."  
  
Roy put his mouth directly over Ed's ear. "Discretion here is important. I'm not worried about your ears, but they aren't the only ones listening."  
  
Ed jerked away. "Tickles," he said. Roy noticed goose bumps on the back of Ed's neck. He resumed pulling the snarls apart.  
  
"What do you think I should do?"  
  
"Calm down. Stop fighting the guards."  
  
Ed stiffened up again. "You don't know… If I stopped fighting them, they might get ideas."  
  
"Ideas?"  
  
"The one who took away my brush. He first offered to braid my hair, in return for me doing something for him. I told him anything he stuck in my mouth would be bitten off. He took the brush to punish me, but he didn't ask again. That was less than two hours into my sentence."  
  
Roy gritted his teeth. "How long are you in for?"  
  
"Six months. No, five months and 23 days."  
  
"You think a week was bad… I've been in here twelve months. Trust me, you don't want to stay a day longer than you absolutely have to. Keep fighting the guards and they will tack more time onto your sentence."  
  
"That's not fair."  
  
"They aren’t fair. Did you stand before a judge?"  
  
Ed's shook his head.  
  
"Hold still," Roy retrieved a particularly dense mat at the base of his neck. "Then they can pretty much keep you here as long or as short as they like. You aren't on record. You've fallen into the 'grey' zone of military justice."  
  
Ed slouched. "How do we fight them when they don't fight fair."  
  
Softly, in his ear: "We fight smart. We give them what they want and keep our eyes open until they slip up." Ed shivered involuntarily but didn't pull away.  
  
"And what if they never slip up?"  
  
"They already have, three times now. With any luck they won't know how badly until it's far too late."   
  
  
 ****

**PROMISE AND THREAT**

****  
  
  
Midnight was there to escort Roy to work the next day. Ed had stood up, too but Midnight had shaken his head. "Not you. Not yet." Ed sat down again. The kid looked a hell of a lot better this morning. Clean, groomed, calm. Amazing. One might even mistake him for a normal healthy youth and not an insane chimera. Midnight snorted, and waved Roy out of the room.  
  
They walked out into the hall for the familiar, short journey to the labs a floor above.  
  
"The guards are impressed," said Midnight. "He's been a thorn in their sides for a week, then inside of fifteen minutes you have him eating out of your palm. I'd like to know how you did that."  
  
"I treated him with respect and dignity, like a human being."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"We have a history together. He's used to taking orders from me."  
  
Midnight shrugged. "In any case, our time table is pretty pressed. I'd like to put him to work. Can I trust him?"  
  
"I'll keep him in check."  
  
"You better, because if he starts acting up in the lab, it won't be him we'll punish. It'll be you."  
  
Roy nodded. "Understood."  
  
Midnight hesitated. "Three days. If he can keep his cool for three days I'll let him work. If you can't get him civil in a week, I'm sending him back to his own cell and he can spend the rest of his months in solitary. You can tell him that, too."  
  
Roy's mouth tensed but he said nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**ANIMAL TESTING**

****  
  
Al picked the rat out of its cage and gently stroked its shaved back. It squirmed and nuzzled the palm of his hand, then broke free and tried to crawl up his arm. Laughing, Al reached up and caught the naughty rodent as it crawled onto his shoulder.  
  
Roy laughed. "Need a little help?"  
  
Al shook his head. "No, no." He pulled at the creature, but its tiny claws were caught in his hair. "Ouch, no." He gave the creature a quick kiss on the head and then carried it to the workbench.  
  
"You shouldn’t get too attached, " warned Roy.  
  
"Maybe if this works, do you think they'll let me keep him as a pet?" Al gently placed the rat on the table and picked up the grease pencil.  
  
"I'm sure they won't," said Roy. "I imagine they'll dissect him regardless of the outcome."  
  
Al's stomach went sour and he hesitated. "I wish we didn't have to use animals like this."  
  
"Would you rather we started on people?" Roy's was the gentle voice of reason, as always. It was impossible to argue with him. Pointless.  
  
"I suppose I better get this right," sighed Al. "That way we won't have to make too many suffer."  
  
Roy stood next to him and put a hand over the rat, helping pin it so that Al could draw the array on it's shaved back. Even with Roy's help the rodent squirmed and it was difficult to control the line properly.  
  
"Don't take on more guilt than you have to," said Roy. "They were bred and trained for this purpose. If we don't use them, they will simply be used in some other experiment. No matter the outcome, we will learn something."  
  
Al finished and picked up the rat again, this time holding it away from his body, not wanting to touch it more than he had to. Not even wanting to look at it too much. It was easy to tell someone not to feel guilty, but it was a lot harder to do. Roy was right, Ed was planning on using rabbits in much the same way. It's the nature of the science.  
  
At least they weren't people.  
  
Al dropped the rat in the maze and watched it quickly thread its way to its reward. Well trained indeed.  
  
Roy cleared his voice twice. Al quickly looked over at Roy's hands.  
  
 _RB,_  the fingers quickly signed. _Remember the bastards_. That was the point of this, to get back somehow. Al didn't know exactly what Roy was planning on doing, but doing this project was apparently key. Which was just as well, because the project wasn't exactly voluntary anyway.  
  
Al bent his index finger twice quickly, and then made the signs MF.  _Yes, my Fuhrer._ It was a joke… sort of.  
  
Roy smiled.  
  
What the Bastards and Roy expected to get out of the project he still didn't know, but he suspected that Roy, at least, wasn't interested in battle fatigue. And that meant that Midnight might not really be after that as well. And that lead to a line of speculation that Al just really didn't want to get into because his conscience was already twinging at the idea of experimenting on rats.  
  
 _E?_ Signed Al, desperate to derail his train of thought.  
  
A more complex sign, two fingers against the palm of his hand in a quick hammer stroke.  _Working._  Two more signs.  _Impatient. Difficult._  
  
Al signed  _yes_ again. When Roy was with Ed he cooperated fine, but during the day when Roy was at work, apparently Ed was reverting to his more petulant behavior. Roy was working on it.  
  
Al stroked his right eyebrow.  _Tomorrow?_  
  
Roy held up two fingers, then wiggled them.  _Two more days. Maybe._  Then two more rapid signs,  _Teach him tonight._  
  
The rat had finished its kibble and was now nosing about randomly in the maze, hoping for more perhaps. Al picked it up. With a single finger he touched the array on its back, took a deep breath and focused. A brief light signaled his success.  
  
Roy put some more kibble at the end of the maze and then Al put the rat back at the starting line.  
  
The rat didn't move.  
  
Al gently nudged the rat, but it still didn't move. It's eyes blinked. It breathed, but it made no motion to follow the maze or even explore its surroundings. Al picked it up and put it at the end of the maze next to the kibble. It still didn't move. It's nose twitched a little but otherwise it lay limp.  
  
Al sighed. Remember the bastards. Remember the way he was kidnapped and humiliated and cheated and manipulated. Remember all the other conscripts out there in the same position or worse. Remember the senseless out of control war being fought over ego and turf. Remember Winry. Remember Ed. Remember Roy, and Armstrong, Hawkeye, Havoc, Feury, Breda and all the others. Al was glad he hadn't named the rat, maybe he wouldn't have to remember it too.  
  
Roy picked the animal up and placed it back in its container and began to write up the findings. Al glanced over at the guard then averted his eyes. "I'm taking a break," he said aloud. The guard got up to signal an escort from outside. He didn't look. He didn't want them to see the tears threatening to overflow his eyes.  
  
  
 ****

**SMALL HOURS**

****  
  
Ed woke with a hand pressed tightly over his mouth. He struggled furiously for a second, then, as the sleep fog lifted from his brain, recognized Roy leaning over the head of the bed pushing him down. For a moment he felt fury, then he remembered Roy's whispered promise that sometime in the night they would finally talk.  
  
"Shhhh, shhhh," Roy whispered. He let go of Ed's mouth and settled back to kneeling at the head of Ed's bunk.  
  
"What the hell," whispered Ed back. "What time is it?"  
  
"Not sure. I'm guessing around 3 or 4 am. The guard just checked us, I think we're good for an hour or so."  
  
"Good for what?" said Ed louder.  
  
"Shhhh," Roy put his hand back over Ed's mouth. "They are still listening."  
  
"You said they were gone," said Ed when Roy lifted his hand again.  
  
"Tape recorders. 24 hours. Noise activated likely. I've noticed one in the wall near the desk. There might be more. Probably are more. But from what I know, they can't pick up whispers effectively. Still quieter the better."  
  
"Are you going to tell me your plan now?" asked Ed as softly as he could.  
  
"Not quite. Not yet. I'm going to teach you how to use coded signs to communicate. Al and I have been using them for a couple of weeks, and the guards haven't picked up on it."  
  
"Why do we have to do this at 3 am."  
  
"The guards check less frequently this time of night. It would look suspicious if they saw us whispering together. They might suspect we were conspiring and separate us."  
  
Ed suppressed a snicker. "You hate being alone."  
  
"Very true, but beside the point. We should get started. No, stay lying down, just scoot over a bit so I can sit next to you."  
  
Grudgingly, Ed accommodated. The lighting was dimmer than during waking hours, but still plenty sufficient for seeing Roy's hands especially this close up.  
  
"The alphabet first," whispered Roy. He made the sign, mouthed the letter, then waited for Ed to repeat it. Now fully awake Ed threw himself into the work. He quickly memorized the alphabet, and then started in on the signs for common words. Roy had to make some adjustments for the fact that Ed had only one hand, but with only a moments hesitation they were made.  
  
Somewhere in there, Roy switched from whispering to signing, spelling out the word with his fingers, then giving the gesture. Ed responded in kind. Time passed by quickly without either realizing it.  
  
 _You learn quick,_ Roy signed.  _Good._  
  
"Took you this long to notice?" Ed whispered back not knowing the right signs and too impatient to finger spell the whole thing.  _You learn slow._  
  
There was a sudden clank at the door. Ed froze with horror.   
  
Roy suddenly lay down on top of him and pressed his lips against Ed's. Ed tensed to the bone, keeping his mouth firmly shut.   
  
"HEY, HEY THERE!" the guard shouted and pulled Roy off before Ed could properly knee the bastard. "Back in your own bunk." With a look of palpable disgust he looked over at Ed. "Was he bothering you?"  
  
Roy spoke up, angrily, "Hey yourself! He wasn't saying 'no!'"  
  
 _What the hell?_ thought Ed. Oh damn if Roy wasn't trying to get the guard to believe they were, oh, hell.   
  
"Was he bothering you?"  
  
Ed looked over at Roy who signed _say no._  
  
Hell. "What I do in my own bed is my business," said Ed. "Butt out."  
  
Roy rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders in relief.   
  
The guard looked them over. "You both revolt me." He then left.  
  
Roy sat on his own bed and covered his smirk with a hand.  
  
Ed launched himself across the room and tackled Roy. "You mind," he hissed. "Telling me what that was about? Now they think we are… are…" Roy fell back into the mattress. Ed suddenly realized that their positions were even more compromising than before. He climbed out of Roy's lap and backed up a few feet.  
  
Roy sat up laughing and gestured for him to come closer. Very reluctantly Ed did.  
  
"Would you rather he figure out what we were really doing?" Roy whispered. "Or perhaps got the notion I was trying to strangle you in your sleep? At least this way we will have an excuse to be close enough to whisper things to each other, that is until you learn to sign your insults to me properly."  
  
"You could have come up with something else," whispered Ed.   
  
"Ok, I'm open to suggestions, what should I have done?"  
  
Ed opened his mouth, then closed it.  
  
"Yes. You see." Ed noticed a sudden gleam in Roy's eye, "And while I admit I'm out of practice," Roy teased, "Was it truly that awful?"  
  
"Gah," said Ed loudly and went back to his bed. "And he expects me to trust him," he mumbled into the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

**HISTORY**

****  
  
Midnight's day started at six a.m. with a polite knock on the door. He grunted, reluctantly pushing aside his blanket and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Blinking hard and yawning, he stumbled to the door and let in a stolid and far too wakeful Major Ashfell.  
  
Ashfell wasn't the sort of person you wanted to see first thing in the day. The hulk had easily four inches on Midnight and was roughly twice as broad. Brick red hair, face showing the scars of both from battle and a bad case of adolescent acne, freckles so numerous they blended into each other. It really wasn't good to take in on an empty stomach.  
  
He didn't look much like an intelligence officer, far too conspicuous. More like someone who should have been put in low level security. Flame referred to him once as the Thug, and Midnight thought briefly that it fit.  
  
Ashfell strolled in and immediately settled himself at the table near the window, putting down the days briefing and starting in on his report before Midnight could even fill the coffee pot at the sink.   
  
"We had an eventful night with your favorite charges," he said. "You might find this amusing."  
  
Midnight's stomach lurched. Amusing and Fullmetal didn't fit. For that matter amusing and Flame wasn’t such a happy thought, either. Damn, he hoped he didn’t have to actually follow through with the threat of putting Fullmetal back in solitary. He _needed_ that crazy smart son-of-a-bitch. Fullmetal had a reputation for pulling new arrays out of his ass. The Fuhrer was pushing for positive results, and let it be known, in a not so subtle way, that if they didn't come soon Midnight might face some unpleasant consequences.   
  
"Apparently prison can make men lonely," Ashfell drawled. "One of the guards caught them in bed together. Consensually, it seems."  
  
Well that was not what Midnight was expecting to hear. He coughed on his spit.   
  
For a moment his mind ran through the scenario in rather too much detail for his own comfort. One of the things he had been trying very hard not to notice was just how pretty the Elrics were. Flame had reputation for being a womanizer; one could easily suppose, after a year of enforced abstinence, the long blond hair and small frame might be close enough to feminine not to matter.   
  
That Fullmetal had gone along with it… now that was… well actually that was interesting. And useful. Midnight scratched the stubble on his chin. He had the younger Elric completely cowed by playing off his relationship with the Rockbell girl. This had the same potential.  
  
And suddenly Flame's almost instant control over the kid made perfect sense. "We have a history together," Flame had said.   
  
Exactly what sort of history would that be? thought Midnight. And how far back? The kid had been eleven when he first entered the ex-Colonels care. That was just _sick_. And what sort of falling out had they had for Fullmetal to abandon the Colonel in his time of need?  
  
Ashfell was already pushing on to other items. Something about ineffective tape recorders. Midnight missed most of it. Whatever he lost, he could pick up again in the written report later.  
  
"I suggest we move them apart again," said Ashfell, breaking into Midnight's thoughts.   
  
"No," countered Midnight. "I can use this."  
  
"Very well, but we don't want to make Mustang's stay too pleasant. The Fuhrer's is pretty adamant about the bastard suffering. At least until you get your results. He's only allowing you to use him on this project out of the sheer perverse irony of it."  
  
"I know what I'm doing," Midnight insisted. "Flame isn't the only manipulative bastard out there. And trust me, the results of this project are already very, very interesting. He's got the kid almost civilized. Let's not be too hasty breaking up a good thing."  
  
  
 ****

**SUCCESS**

****  
  
Roy was smugger than usual this morning, but he wouldn't let Al in on whatever the joke was. He also looked exhausted. Al could guess the tired part. It had taken him and Roy the better part of two weeks to slowly and discretely piece together their signing system. Getting Ed up to speed would have probably taken hours at least.  
  
The rats had been delivered again. Three this time, each with a shaved flank. Al didn't want to touch them. So he wrote notes, most of which were redundant and he practiced drawing arrays as if the problem was penmanship. Roy yawned and messed with the bulky camera equipment, and snickered occasionally to himself.  
  
And that was how Midnight caught them: slacking off with nothing to show for a day's work.  
  
"What is the problem?" he asked, with a level of menace in his tone that Al had not heard before. Midnight grabbed his notes, and scattered them across the room. "What _is_ this garbage?"  
  
Roy tried to intervene, but Midnight just pushed him aside and backed Al against the wall. "You better have a _damn_ good explanation as to why you haven't already processed these rats, kid. That camera equipment is on loan.  It goes back in two hours."  
  
"For heaven's sake, " Roy spoke up. "Lay off of him. He's having a fit of conscience."  
  
Midnight spun around and the two exchanged a very strange look.  
  
"He likes animals," said Roy. "He doesn't like seeing them get hurt."  
  
And Midnight actually deflated a bit. "Oh, is _that_ what this is about?" he said with a laugh of relief.  
  
As though it could have been something else, thought Al.  
  
"Look Al, these are rats.  Vermin. People poison them to get them out of their houses. They have about as much intelligence as your snot. They have a life span of a year tops. Maybe in their next life they will get to be gerbils or birds or something less filthy. And lab life is no fun. Put them out of their misery."  
  
"Can't you have Roy do it?" asked Al. "I'll come up with the arrays, I just don't want to actually draw them on the … subjects."  
  
"He doesn't get to draw arrays. He's a prisoner. This is your job. Suck it up soldier and stop being such a crybaby."  
  
Al's stomach hardened at the insult. Angry, he walked over to the cage, snatched a rat out, placed it on the desk and drew the array with a quick practiced hand.   
  
"Better," said Midnight.  
  
They started the camera equipment. The rat ran the maze flawlessly. Al activated the array, then placed the rat at the starting line. Hissing in a breath, Al let go of the rat's sides. It squirmed away from him wandering through the maze, nosing at the walls, doubling back. Lost, but still lively. Eventually the rat found the snack left for it, but it took about 5 minutes.  
  
"Congratulations," said Midnight. "You've had your first success."  
  
"Yeah, I've erased a memory." Al breathed. "What's next."  
  
"Implanting one."  
  
  
 ****

**SHAME**

****  
  
Roy had kissed him. Holy crap.  
  
Ed squirmed in his bed, rolling over onto his side, feeling his belly twisting into a knot. His eyes stared at blank grey walls. Distractionless walls. God, he wanted to get out of there. He wanted to run. Hit something. He wanted _out_. He wanted to think about something else other than Roy kissing him and the churning confusion it had left in it's wake.  
  
Roy was off at work, with his brother. Researching. Experimenting. Doing things. Leaving him alone in an empty cell. He tried to read one of the books on the desk but couldn't get the words to stick in his mind. His body itched to move but there was no place to go.  
  
He wanted to hit a guard. He wanted to smack Roy good. Take that smirk and drive it through his teeth. The _presumption_ of the man. And the way he'd laughed it all off afterwards, like it was some big joke and he was the butt of it. As though it were nothing. Except now the guards were all looking at Ed in a way they hadn't since he'd first arrived.  
  
Roy had kissed him. His first kiss, if you didn't count the brotherly pecks Al gave him, or the quick on the cheek welcome-back smooches Winry offered up whenever he'd come home from a particularly long absence. Roy had kissed him like he might have a girl, then laughed about it.   
  
Then fished for compliments.  _I'm out of practice,_  he had said, _but really was it that bad?_  
  
Ed didn't actually remember what it felt like because at the time he'd been so blown away that it was even happening he hadn't even registered the feeling. He had no idea if it was a good kiss or bad one.   
  
But it did prove a theory Ed held. Sex, Ed had decided years ago, was a messy ,and potentially dangerous distraction. It undermined people's rationality, made them do stupid things, and when it went bad it soured previously good relationships.   
  
One quick kiss and Roy had thrown a comfortable companionship out the window. Now there was this weird thing in between them. Something that wasn't even really an invitation into a relationship, but couldn't be completely dismissed either.  
  
What the hell had Roy been thinking.  
  
Ed didn't want to think about it. Just like he didn't want to think about what he did late at night when he thought the other was asleep. It's just biology. The body dictated "use it or lose it," and Ed didn't want to lose it. And he didn't want it rearing up in his sleep, either, when he was in even less control of it, where it might make a mess that he wouldn't be able to properly hide.  
  
Ed was ashamed of his needs. Mostly because of what turned him on. Thinking of people who he didn't know just didn't cut it. A stranger off a street or a picture in a magazine could only bring him so far. Eventually he had to think of either one of his friends, or one of his enemies. And it almost didn't matter which of them it was. Just about everyone Ed knew had made an appearance in his nightly fantasy at least once. Ed was certain that none of them would appreciate the way he manipulated them in his mind.  
  
Lately it had mostly been Al and Winry who came to mind when he touched himself. He'd seen them kiss when they thought he wasn't looking. He'd wondered what it would feel like to run his hand down the back of Winry's dress. Run his hand up the front of her shirt. He wondered what she tasted like. And he was positive that Al wouldn't appreciate him mentally debauching his girlfriend.  
  
Even worse, sometimes it was the other way around, and he wondered what it was that Winry felt when she ran her hands through his brother's hair. How did it feel to touch the new muscles developing under his skin. And what it felt like to hear his brothers voice coo in his ear. Ed almost couldn't forgive himself for that.  
  
It all embarrassed him to such a point that Al and Winry had picked up on it, and instinctively become discrete about their relationship around him. He doubted they understood exactly the nature of his discomfort, and he wasn't about to let them know. Ever.  
  
At least, Ed thought, it wouldn't be either of them who sprang to mind next time need reared its ugly head. But having it be Roy instead wasn't any more comfortable. Hell, he was stuck with the man for six months in close quarters.  
  
Damn that man. Ed curled into a tighter ball.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**FOR WHAT ITS WORTH**

****  
  
Midnight arrived to escort Mustang back from work again. Roy was nervous, half suspecting that when he got back to his room Ed would no longer be there and that the reason for Midnight's escort was to berate him for lascivious habits.  
  
He really hoped that it didn't mean they were pulling Ed off the project entirely. Or worse, pulling him off. Roy's mind raced. How to work this?  
  
Though Midnight said nothing as they left the workroom, he signaled the guard to stop as soon as they reached the elevator."  You and Alphonse haven't been talking about the project much, have you."  
  
"I'm not sure what you mean."  
  
"I mean, you are being discrete with him."  
  
Oh, so this was about Al's little rebellion earlier that day. "Yes."  
  
"What do you think he will do when he figures it out?"  
  
"He will probably refuse to continue." Roy hoped this wasn't the case, because inevitably Al _would_ figure it out. Roy already had a number of arguments laid out in his mind to convince the younger alchemist to keep on -- but Midnight didn't need to know this.  
  
Midnight considered him. "Why do you play along? Don't lie, I can tell you know exactly where this project is leading to. You probably had it figured out from the moment I explained it to you. I'm on to you, you know."  
  
Oh, Roy sincerely hoped he wasn't. "I enjoy working," offered Roy. "On any project. Jail has taught me to live in the now."  
  
"That is just so much bull crap and we both know it."  
  
Roy allowed himself to meet Midnight's eyes, knowing that the other would take this as a sign of sincerity. Here was where he put his cards out on the table. Not the true cards, but plausible ones, from a deck he'd quietly stacked in his mind weeks before.  
  
"You know what I have to look forward to," said Roy. "An empty jail cell. Periodic torture. Humiliation. And eventually when the Fuhrer tires of it all, I'll be put to death. Maybe in a painful experiment. If I could escape I would have done so long ago. Trust me, I've had a long time to come up with plans, and have come up empty.  
  
"I won't say I'm happy about what will happen to me when I finally succeed. But I can hope" Roy paused. "I can hope that the Fuhrer would rather parade about his faithful lapdog rather than to leave it languishing in the dark."  
  
"So you'd even give up free will for physical freedom?"  
  
"What is the point of free will, if you have no choices."  
  
  
  
****

**GIFT**

****  
  
Ed was sitting at the desk in their cell when he heard Roy return. He refused to turn around. Instead he continued to read one the texts from his earlier research project. It was a rather dense volume on the biochemical properties of the body. Endocrines and hormones. Genes. To think the whole of a human's physical nature was written in an alphabet comprised of only four letters.   
  
He did not look at Roy when he heard the other sigh.  
  
The brain was so ridiculously complicated, and yet at the core so simple. All variation on the same theme. To manipulate it wouldn't take power. God no, quite the opposite. It would take a light, light touch and a hell of a lot of finesse. All the ingredients were there at hand. It was just a matter of rearrangement and skill. A _lot_ of skill.  
  
"Well, I'm glad to see you are still here," said Roy.  
  
"Well, I was planning on going to the grocery store, but… well, there was this locked door and armed guards…. And where the hell did you think I could go?" asked Ed. He turned around. Roy was looking somewhat uncomfortable.  _Good. That makes two of us._  
  
"Well after last night, I figured there was a good chance they'd separate us."  
  
"I guess you are stuck with me."  
  
_Last night,_  Roy signaled.  
  
Ed interrupted, _Forget it._  He fingerspelled the rest:  _A ruse, I get it._ Ed was in control of himself now, but he didn't want to push it. The less said on the subject the better.  
  
Roy looked thoughtful and nodded. "Glad you've come to terms with the arrangement."  
  
"Did I have a choice?"  
  
Roy smirked. Then suddenly his face lit up as if he'd just thought of something. He pulled at his wrist and took off a hair tie. "I have a gift for you. It's from your brother. He's, by the way, looking forward to seeing you tomorrow." He held the band up.  
  
_Oh, hey, yeah,_  thought Ed. He stood up and reached out his hand. "Wow, thank you."  
  
"I know how much you hate having your hair down, though honestly I don't why. You look very pretty this way."  
  
Ed snatched the hair tie away. "And that would be why I don't like it down." Ed fetched the brush from the desk and swiftly pulled it through his hair. Then stopped.  
  
GAH! He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and then turned to Roy. Sure enough there was a huge toothy smile on the other's face. And those dark eyes, just so satisfied. Ed knew he'd been got again.  
  
"I can't do this by myself, " admitted Ed.  
  
"Come over here."  
  
"You enjoy this too much, you know."  
  
"It's one of the few pleasures left in my life." Roy patted his bed and reluctantly Ed sat down. Roy skillfully brushed, divided and began plaiting his hair. Ed just wished the tug and pull didn't feel so good. His scalp never felt this sensitive when he handled his own hair.  
  
"Mmmm."  
  
"Enjoying this?" asked Roy, gently amused.  
  
"No!" protested Ed. "Just finish up."  
  
Roy chuckled, making no attempt to hurry. "I imagine then you won't enjoy this tomorrow either."  
  
Ed squirmed. How was it Roy always managed to find precisely the right thing to say to get through his defenses. "Why do you always have to be such a bastard? Can't we be together for ten minutes without you teasing me?"  
  
"Obviously, no."  
  
"If you are going to tease, at least you could keep it to my height or something less…" Ed didn't know how to finish the sentence.  
  
"Trust me, I've been wanting to tease you on your height since you got here. So tempting to see your reactions. I seem to recall they are always dramatic. But I'm not such a bastard that I would provoke you out of a job." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Business before pleasure." The heat of his breath made Ed's nerves come to attention.  
  
Then leaning back again Roy continued in a normal voice. "I'm content to watch you wiggle. Which by the way you do quite nicely." Roy looped the band three times around the end of the braid.  
  
"Oh, hell!" said Ed with disgust. Signing, _You owe me._  
  
_What do I owe you?_  
  
_An explanation,_ finger spelled Ed.  
  
Aloud: "For teasing you?"  
  
Impatient, Ed turned and this time it was he who grabbed the other's head and pulled it close. It was he who whispered in Roy's ear. "For what you are up to. You promised you wouldn't keep me in the dark. Well, it's been four days now, and you still haven't given me a clue as to what you are planning to do."  
  
He leaned back to see Roy's expression. There was a wide smile and a truly evil gleam in his eye. Roy pulled him close and pressed his lips to the ear itself.   
  
"I thought you already knew. I plan to be Fuhrer."  
  
  
  
****

**REUNION**

****  
  
Midnight looked Fullmetal over. He was calm, neat, and even eager to work. Everything Midnight could want out of him, utterly the opposite of the wild creature he'd subdued in Dunn's office. Amazing what two weeks in prison could do to a man, though he suspected a large part of the change had nothing to do with the setting and everything to do with the company.  
  
Mustang was smug, meeting his eyes with steady confidence. Proud of his own achievement. Midnight's stomach burned. One day soon that smug expression would be wiped off Flame's face forever. One day soon Mustang would be eager to spill his every secret thought to Midnight. One day soon he would crawl across the floor to please him. Lapdog indeed.  
  
In the meantime, Midnight was in good spirits. He was about to see the famous duo in action, see if they were really as talented a team as the rumors had it. Much as it pained him to admit, Mustang was a brighter man than he was, and the Elrics were even brighter than Flame.   
  
Flame and had taken the idea of alchemical mind control from a tantalizing fantasy to very real possibility. With Al, the two had taken it from possibility to bluntly imprecise reality. With Fullmetal added to the mix, not only should the timetable be sped up, but it would get the refinement needed to make it an actual useful tool.   
  
And it would get the Fuhrer off his back. And his career back on a more comfortable track. To think all this stress came out of a simple offhanded comment he'd made five months ago at the Fuhrer's birthday party.  
  
_"What if," said Midnight to small group of friends near the punch bowl. "You could take a person, any person, and in less than an hour turn him into the most trustworthy servant you could ask for. An operative could slip into a neighboring country, take control of a spouse, or an underling of an important official, and soon credible intelligence would flow into the State. How much easier it would be to fight a war if you knew the other sides plans ahead of time."_  
  
_"How could you do that?" asked one of the others._  
  
_"Alchemy. Just a little adjustment of the mind, and poof, instant utterly loyal mole."_  
  
_"I like that idea," came a voice behind him. He'd spun around to see the Fuhrer in full regalia, smiling in a way that should have been friendly, but wasn't._  
  
_"What if I could use that same alchemy" the Fuhrer counter proposed, "and turn the enemy's generals into my operatives. Turn my enemy's civil leaders into my puppets. Yes, I like that idea. It's got vision." A not so gentle hand had landed on Midnight's shoulder. And before Midnight could say there wasn't any alchemy currently available that would do anything _remotely_ like that, the Fuhrer continued: "I'll trust you with that. You will have everything you'll need. Any personnel you want. Make this your first priority."_  
  
And now here he was, with the personnel he wanted, and the budget he needed, and by all that was holy it was falling into place. He couldn't keep the bounce out of his step and the smile off his face.  
  
They arrived at the lab. Fullmetal moved forward eagerly, scanning the place. God, such youthful innocence. Then his eyes met his brothers.   
  
"Al!" cried Edward.  
  
"Brother!" And the two of them raced to meet each other in the middle of the room. Their embrace was hard and enthusiastic, and Midnight felt a bit like a voyeur witnessing the sheer intensity of their joy. Al lifted his brother off the ground and swung him half way around.  
  
_Al is taller,_  Midnight mused. A couple of inches. And here he'd been thinking they were the same. Poor older brother.  
  
"You look great," Ed said, patting his brother's back. He then stepped back, his one hand slipping to his brother's shoulder. "But that uniform -- Your taste in clothes is still questionable. Who the heck talked you into that?"  
  
"Have you looked in the mirror lately, brother?" Al chided back. "You look like an orange."  
  
Ed grabbed his brother's ponytail and playfully pulled. Al tackled him to the ground, and Midnight felt suddenly very warm. "AHEM!" he said.  
  
The two looked up innocently, having absolutely no idea how seeing two girlishly beautiful boys wrapped ecstatically around each other might effect even the straightest of men.   
  
Midnight turned away and pointed at the rat cages. "You've got twenty rats to process, divided into four trials. Blue tank is untrained. Red tank is trained in one maze.  Clear tank is trained in both. Test one will be taking the memory of the maze from one rat and implant it into the other. I expect at least an array, if not an actually completed test by the end of the day. The second test is to take a rat with knowledge of two mazes and remove the knowledge of one of them, but only one. The third will be to remove memory of both mazes from a rat with a single array. The fourth will be to transfer two memories into a rat with neither. Get going, I'll be back at noon to check on your progress."  
  
He then turned to head out, his eyes briefly meeting Mustang's. Damn that man, smirking again, like he'd seen right through Midnight's skin and perceived something there. Well, nothing there to perceive, you asshole. You are the pervert here. Not me.


	11. Chapter 11

**THE NOTE**

****  
  
Winry hated to admit it, but it was getting easier and easier to ignore the MP that followed Al wherever he went. Although modesty was never her biggest issue when it came to dressing, and she certainly didn't mind an appreciative look from a stranger, there was something about public displays of affection that just didn't sit right with her. As a result, it felt a little strange to be kissing Al in secluded section of the park, with some guy she didn't know sitting on a rock right across the path from their bench.  
  
Inured as she was, she couldn't suppress the little outraged gasp when Al suddenly slipped his hand under her shirt to feel her up. Her eyes darted over to the MP, who was, of course, watching.  
  
She felt the fingers slip under her bra and tensed. "Al," she whispered warningly.  
  
The fingers retreated and Al pulled away with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. "I wonder if they will allow us to get a hotel room," he asked.  
  
His fingers were out, but there was something kind of uncomfortable left in her bra. Winry felt a second's confusion and then realized Al had stuffed a folded note into the cup.  
  
"We could ask him," said Winry.  
  
They looked over at the MP. "I'm under orders not to let you leave my sight. What you folks choose to do is your business, so long as it doesn't violate the rules." He smirked.  
  
"Ok," said Winry with disgust. "I'm sorry Al, but no. I do have a shred of self-respect left."  
  
Al sighed and shrugged. "Lets walk then. You hungry?"  
  
They started walking. The note in her bra was irritating her. "I could use a bathroom, " she said.  
  
"I saw one down this path."  
  
The MP stayed outside with Al while Winry walked into the dimly lit, dank and cold public restroom. Inside she quickly pulled the note out.  
  
The handwriting wasn't Al's. The things it asked her to do were not the sort of things Al would ask for. But Al had given it to her, and doubtless he knew what it said. She wasn't sure she trusted Mustang as Al did, but it didn't really matter. She'd do it because Al wanted her to. She read it a second time to memorize the instructions and then shredded it into tiny pieces and flushed them away.  
  
Al and the MP were chatting amiably together when she came out. As if they were all just good friends. As if this situation were even remotely normal.  
  
"Let's go," she told them. They wandered out of the park, Al holding her hand, the MP following a few steps behind them. They passed by a jewelry shop, and Winry tugged Al in. For a while they window shopped, but didn't buy anything. They repeated the routine for a hat shop.   
  
And then stopped outside a tattoo shop.  
  
Feeling a little mischievous, Winry followed what the note requested she do. She looked over the display of decorative tattoos taped to the window, and her eye hit on one. A small, simple star. It probably wouldn't hurt that much and it reminded her of the more peaceful times when they would lie out under the night sky, just her and Al and Ed.  
  
"So cute," she said. "Oh, Al, we should get matching tattoos. A friend of mine and her boyfriend have them. Look isn't that star adorable."  
  
"I'm not sure they'll let me get tattooed," said Al, feigning surprise.  
  
"Oh, it's but it's just a star. It's not an array or anything. And it's so tiny." Winry turned to the MP. "Oh please, oh please?"  
  
The MP looked uncomfortable. "He'll have to get it approved, but I don't see why they'd object to him getting a star. So long as it isn't an array, it should be fine."  
  
Al smiled and Winry caught the knowing look in his eyes.  
  
"Let's find out how much it costs," Winry said, and walked in.  
  
In the store, Al did his part. He took two steps and then stumbled spectacularly, falling into a rack of souvenir shirts, knocking everything to the floor. "Sorry, " he called out, and started picking things up.   
  
The owner of the shop moved to help but Winry touched his heavily tattooed arm. She asked him the question, quietly. He looked at her surprised, then looked at the MP helping Al pick up the shirts. Sizing it all up he nodded and whispered a figure.  
  
It was a hell of a lot more money than she expected, She and Al weren't going to be buying anything any time soon, but she nodded. "How long will it take?"  
  
"Give me two weeks. I'll need half up front."  
  
"Ok, we'll be back Friday, that's when we get paid, I'll give you the money then."  
  
"Sure thing. Two weeks after that."  
  
The MP and Al returned. "It's more expensive than I thought. Let's do it Friday when we get paid," she said. "If you can get approval."  
  
Al nodded.  
  
 ****

**PRIVACY**

****  
  
Midnight wasn't surprised when Al wandered into his office. Technically it was the kid's day off. His too, but Midnight had pretty much given up on the notion of time off. Between briefings, managing his staff, paperwork and trying to keep up with what Elric's and Mustang were doing, he had several full time jobs.  
  
He shoved aside the document he was reading and gave the young alchemist his full attention.  
  
The kid was pissed. He could tell that only because he was well versed with Al's expressions, or rather lack there-of. The kid smiled easily enough when he was happy, but when he was truly angry his round face took on a deceptively placid air, and only the cold hard look to his eyes betrayed the depth of his emotions.   
  
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your attitude?" Midnight asked.  
  
"I want some privacy."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean Winry and I are not some tawdry sex show for the MPs."  
  
Midnight sighed in a deep breath. "You are a very valuable member of my staff. It's not safe these days to have you wander around without an escort. There are enemy agents everywhere."  
  
Al actually rolled his eyes. "Give me a bit of credit here," he said. "I know they aren't there for my protection. They are there to make sure I'm not passing state secrets along to Winry. Have I in all this time _ever_ given any reason for you to doubt my discretion?"  
  
Midnight thought for a moment, then conceded. "No."  
  
"I signed the enlistment papers. You folks have me, " Al continued. "It's about time I was treated like a volunteer and not a fresh conscript or a prisoner."  
  
"What do you propose?"  
  
"Some God-damn _private_ time with my girlfriend. I assume you once had girlfriend."  
  
Midnight smiled. "I distantly remember such a time." He leaned forward. "I really meant it about the operatives. When you are out, security is a must."  
  
"Well then how about allowing Winry into my room. You know I don't live in a dorm. That place you have set up for me is practically an apartment. And it's private, it's not like I would be scandalizing a roommate or anything."  
  
Midnight considered. The room Al had been given had been designed for an officer with the minimum rank of Major, as such it was far more luxurious than a Specialist deserved. There had been reasons for the room. Firstly, it isolated the boy, which made keeping an eye on his comings and goings easier. Secondly it provided an incentive for the boy to work – it was something that could be taken away. Midnight rather doubted the kid would like to lose his private bathroom. Thirdly it was in the same building as they worked, which reduced the need for security around the kid… who despite his protestations actually did require an escort. Al was, quite simply, not replaceable.  
  
There were no practical reasons to prevent Al from seeing his girlfriend in his room. Still it would be a massive breach of protocol. Something that his superiors might actually raise an eyebrow at. Yet, the only excuse that came quickly to his tongue was: "The fifth lab complex is a secure facility. She would need clearance."  
  
"Then clear her."  
  
Midnight cupped his chin. "Very well. Though it will look strange. Encouraging minors to have sex is not the way the Army usually operates. Use protection. The fall out of a pregnancy would not be good for either of us."  
  
Al looked relieved. "Oh, and one more thing, " he said.  
  
"You really want favors today," drawled Midnight. "Luckily I'm in an amenable mood."  
  
"I'd like to get a tattoo. Not an array, just a little star, on my hand."  
  
Midnight was actually expecting this request. He'd been informed by Ashfell. "Yes, provided I be there to watch you get it. No funny business."  
  
Al lifted an eyebrow.   
  
"Take it or leave it."  
  
"I'll take it." Suspicious, he added, "Why the sudden generosity?"  
  
Midnight lifted the corner of his lip. "Tomorrow we start using dogs. I expect no more fits of conscience out of you over it, or else I might change my mind about your need for privacy."  
  
Al turned pale and swallowed hard.  
  
"You are dismissed," said Midnight, and waved him off.  
  
  
 ****

**THE BREAKING POINT**

****  
  
  
Ed bent over near the cage, his one hand on his knee for support. The animal within suddenly lunged at him, teeth clanking against the bars. Ed backed up quickly, wiping a drop of the beasts spittle from his cheek. "What the hell did they do to it to get it so pissed."  
  
Al was standing about as far as he could from the cage and still be in the same room.   
  
"They tortured it, " said Roy. "Look at the paws."  
  
"The hell, " said Ed. "Why on earth would they do that? It's just a poor mangy mutt."  
  
"Why they did it isn't important," said Roy softly. "The important thing is to know that it's within our power to take away its fear and suffering."  
  
Revulsion crawled up Ed's throat, and he tasted bile. Sick is what it was. Sick and twisted.   
  
Al called out, still turned away, face into the concrete. "Roy, Ed, someone, just trank the damn thing already. I don't want to listen to it anymore."  
  
"If they just gave me back my arm, I could sedate it a whole lot easier," grumbled Ed. He looked over to see if the guard had taken the hint. If he had he was showing absolutely no sign of it.   
  
Sighing, he reached for the loaded gun on the table, and put feathered dart into the dog's side. No one spoke as the dog whined, then went quiet.   
  
Ed turned around and caught Roy exchanging some quick signs with Al, Their bodies blocked too much for Ed to see exactly what they were saying, but there was no mistaking the hardening of Al's expression. Roy's shoulders twitched. Ed knew he was signing something more. Suddenly Al's glare softened, and he turned his head away, as though in submission.  
  
Damn Roy, what was he pulling over on Al. Whatever it was, it was time to put a stop to it. "Yo, Roy, I can't drag this thing out on my own, come help me here."  
  
"I hate this," Al muttered loudly.  
  
Ed went over to reassure Al while Roy struggled to pull the unconscious animal out of its crate. "I hate this too, but what can we do. Come on; let's just get it done. I can draw the array if you like."  
  
Al shrugged off his proffered arm. "I'm ok. I'm just in a foul mood right now. I can draw your array."  
  
Ed stepped back. He hadn't seen Al like this in a long time. "Have I done something…?" he asked.  
  
"No, brother. This isn't about you, for once." There was a dull resentment in the voice that suggested that maybe it _was_ all about him in some backwards way.  
  
"What did I do?" asked Ed, beginning to feel the burn. He thought over his behavior for the past few days but could think of nothing. Unless it was the way he'd taken his brother's painfully thought out arrays and tweaked them.   
  
God was that it? The arrays were amazing really, when Ed first saw them his first impulse had been to wonder what sort of flight of fancy his brother must have been on when he came up the idea. An array with no straight lines, just a series of intersecting and enmeshed spirals like some crazy maze, it was odd, and truly innovative. It almost didn't look like an array, but rather some child's scribble. Except there was method in the madness, each intersection was planned, the lines representing memory, pattern, physical properties, chemistry, chaos: it all fit neatly together somehow.  
  
All Ed had done was add an overlay, something to tighten the focus, bleed off extra power, prevent collateral damage. But now suddenly it was _his_ array and not his brother's anymore.  
  
Midnight wasn't helping at all. Praising Ed for his innovations, like Ed even wanted that guys approval. He was doing this because this was what he had to do to see Al. Having Midnight's approval just made it more loathsome.  
  
And as if reading Ed's thoughts, Midnight appeared at the door for his daily visit. He walked in the room while Roy was still busy shaving a patch on the dog's side. This animal had been so wild, that apparently the techs hadn't wanted to deal with this necessary but mundane step.   
  
Midnight looked at the dog and then looked over at Al still standing in the corner, looking off in a random direction, and hardened his expression.  
  
"What did I say, Al?"  
  
Al's head jerked to look at Midnight, eyes cold with fury. "Wait until I do something wrong before you chew me out, _sir_." He fetched the grease pencil from the table and stalked off towards the dog.   
  
"Listen, Al, " said Ed again. "I'll do it, I really don't mind."  
  
"I said I don't need your help. This is what I signed up for. I can do my own goddamn job."  
  
And that hit on a particular sore spot for Ed. "Yeah, and why _did_ you sign up, Al?"  
  
Al looked briefly at Midnight. "None of your business." Al's hand was shaking while he made the array.  
  
And Ed felt himself shaking, too, with suppressed rage. "Yeah, I think it _is_ my business. I wouldn't even be here right now if I hadn't tried to come to your rescue. Then when I get here I find out you freaking _volunteered._ I'm in jail now because I tried to save your hide. I think I deserve to know why you did it."  
  
Midnight broke in, "Hey both of you, cool it!"  
  
"I didn't need you to rescue me. You chose to do that. You chose to turn in your watch and to go AWOL and to break into the conscripts quarters and cause mayhem. Don't you try and pin your life on me."  
  
"Your array looks like crap," said Ed.  
  
"Screw off, Brother. And stop trying to make everything that ever happens to me about you. And everything you do about me, either. I told you I'm in a foul mood. _Nothing_ to do with you. Just leave me the hell alone."  
  
"ED, AL cool it!" said Midnight, louder.  
  
Ed spun on his boss. "Back off, this is none of your business."  
  
"That array your brother is trying to draw is my business and you are getting in the way. Cool down or go back to your cell."  
  
Ed turned away, "Screw you," he said and off handedly flipped him the finger. "Why the heck did you have to torture that poor dog, you asshole. You know Al likes animals."  
  
And suddenly the world turned dark and he felt himself being spun into a wall. "I've had quite enough of your attitude," said Midnight. "Guard. Take him back to his cell. Mustang, too."  
  
"Leave Roy out of this, he had nothing to do with it."  
  
"Shut up, Fullmetal."  
  
They lead him blindly back to his cell. It wasn't until he was thrust into the room that Midnight released his hold on Ed's sight and the room blinked brightly into view again.   
  
He turned around ready to flip Midnight off again, but then realized Roy was being pulled further down the hall. "Hey!" Ed called out. "What the heck?"   
  
The door closed.  
  
  
  
 ****

**OUT OF CHARACTER**

****  
  
When it was just himself and the guard left in the room, Al took the razor and shaved a new patch on the dog. He drew the array again, because his brother was right, he'd botched it the first time.  
  
It was easier without an audience. Easier to just not think about what he was doing, knowing that no one was going to see the shame of his failure, or the shame of his success for that matter. If the test worked, he would eliminate not only the memory of pain, but also it's accompanying stress and fear. The dog would be a happy, docile companion when he was finished. If it worked.  
  
He tried not to look at the paws which still had the ends of electrodes taped to them.  
  
Roy was right. He was going to eliminate it's suffering.   
  
Roy was always right.  
  
Always.  
  
And that's what Al hated most, because Roy had signed that _he_ would have to be the one to commit the sin when the time came. No one else.  
  
And that was why he couldn't let Ed shoulder his burdens. As much as he hated to do this to the dog, he needed to do it as well. He only hoped that when the real test came, his heart would be hard enough.  
  
 _Ed won't understand._ Al had signed back. _He will be horrified with me._  
  
 _When the time comes,_ Roy had signed back, _I will deal with that, too._  
  
Al had no doubt Roy would, too. Because Roy was always right.


	12. Chapter 12

**PUNISHMENT**

  
  
Roy knew what was going to happen as soon as Midnight ordered him be taken. Ed had acted up, but he would be the one to get punished. A month ago it would have been easier, but all the company and stimulation had spoiled him. This was going to hurt like hell.  
  
He met Ed's eyes for the briefest of moments at their room. He saw the look of fury suddenly being replaced by confusion, and the golden eyes going wide as the kid realized that he was being hauled off. He absurdly wanted to comfort Ed, reassure him that it wasn't his fault, even though it was. But how could Ed have known. Roy hadn't told him. Roy had been so sure he'd be able to control Ed, that he hadn't seen the need.  
  
Then the door shut, and Roy clenched his teeth.  
  
They didn't take him far – just down the hallway through a heavy windowless door and into tiny cold grey cell. Roy breathed a sigh of relief seeing only a manacled slab, and a fan. Soon they would come in with the buckets. Seeing the dogs feet had made him certain they'd try electrocution this time, but it would just be the old familiar cold sheeting. They didn't want to harm him – just to hurt him. He didn't fight the guards as they readied him. It would only mean bruises.  
  
Roy closed his eyes and focused on his goals, and when his skin went numb and the pain settled like knife blades into his bones, he thought of the look on Midnight's face when he realized just how badly he'd miscalculated Roy. When his muscles ached and tore from prolonged shivering, he thought how the Fuhrer would look when Roy snapped his fingers a final time. When at last the shivering stopped and his brain began to slow with the dullness of hypothermia he imagined the fierce smile Ed would have when he saw Roy's plan come together. Then he stopped thinking all together.  
  
He vaguely noticed being dragged down the corridor and rolled into bed. Ed's voice echoed in from far away: "What the hell did you do to him?"   
  
A hot hand on his forehead, "Damn, you're like ice, and you're wet. What did they do, dunk you in the river?"  
  
"It's ok," Roy mumbled.  
  
"Lets dry you off." He felt a blanket being rubbed across his hair. Then something hot pressed against his back. It felt so good. Ed wrapped his arm around Roy's shoulder and held him close. "Like holding an ice cube," the younger alchemist muttered. "You conscious?"  
  
Roy didn't respond. He was too damn tired.  
  
"Ok, I need to get your shirt off. This works best skin to skin." Roy didn't respond. He was falling asleep and at this point he didn't care what anyone did to him.  
  


TURNABOUT

****  
  
Ed seethed. Why the HELL had they tortured Roy? Roy had done absolutely nothing. He wasn't even involved in the altercation. It made no sense. If anyone deserved to be hurt it was himself.  
  
Actually, if anyone deserved to be hurt it was that son-of-a-bitch Midnight. What an asshole. When they gave him back his arm, he vowed Midnight would get a good taste of his metal knuckles. All that cretin did was strut about like some over-bred show dog, pretending like he was in charge when it was clear that someone else was pulling his leash awfully tight. All the man did was pass the freaking mind games on Roy and Al and himself.  
  
He hated mind games. Hated them with a passion.  
  
The body next to him stirred a bit, jarring him back to the present. Ed became uncomfortably aware that he was lying under two blankets, pressed bare chest to bare back with the biggest mind-game player of all.  
  
 _Man, what am I doing? If I stay like this he's going to wake up and I'll_ never _hear the end of it._ Ed started to pull away, but then felt Roy begin to shiver in his sleep. Ed pressed himself against the other again. It was the least he could do. Roy had been tortured because of him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ed said, feeling the guilt rushing over him. "They should have punished me. You didn't deserve this." Damn it, this was just like Al taking the fall for his going AWOL. Every time Ed slipped up, someone else paid the price. It wasn't freaking _right_. Where the hell was the equivalency? "I'm so sorry."   
  
And without thinking he hugged Roy and gave a small kiss on back of the shoulder, thinking of how he'd once kissed his brother's cold armored body, and had whispered a similar apology.   
  
"Don't tease." It was almost plaintive.  
  
Ed flushed with embarrassment, realizing how badly his actions could be misconstrued. "I'm not, I mean, I thought you were Al, and I thought you were asleep." He was getting flustered.   "And anyway, what the hell do you mean, 'don't tease.'" He felt a bit of righteous anger covering over his embarrassment. "That's all you do to me -- tease me with fake come-ons and find excuses to touch me. Well, it's my turn, how does it feel!"  
  
He pushed himself away from Roy, or at least tried to, but realized that Roy had a pretty good grip on his wrist. "Actually, it feels pretty good."  
  
There was a sudden whirl of movement and Roy stretched his arm over his head and somehow managed to roll over on top of him. "Fake come-ons?" Roy straddled his hips, leaning forward to press Ed's only arm into the mattress.  
  
"Get _off_ me," Ed growled. He tried to roll away, but damn Roy was heavy.  
  
Roy grinned. "What makes you think they were fake?"  
  
Ed felt a sick cold fear settle into his stomach. Then just as fast he dismissed it. Goddamn, he hated mind games. "Cut it out, Roy. We both know you like women, and you may be dumb, but I would think even you would have figured out by now I'm a man."  
  
Roy's eyes narrowed and he seemed to drift into a thoughtful reverie. "Mmmm. I most definitely can tell you are a man. And I do like women, very much. But I haven't so much as seen even a picture of the fairer sex in thirteen months. Right now I'm not feeling that picky." He winked.   
  
The fear was back, Ed tried to yank his wrist out of the other's grip, but Roy had gravity on his side.  
  
"In fact, " Roy drawled, casually running his free hand down the center of Ed's chest, "You have managed to remove all possible rivals for my affections. Congratulations, I'm all yours."  
  
 _Oh, come on!_ Ed felt that quick shift to fury again. "You arrogant bastard!" he huffed. "As if I manipulated this whole situation as a way to get you into my bed."  
  
"Actually, you are in my bed."  
  
"Get the _hell_ off me!"  
  
There was a rattle at the door. Roy hastily rolled off of Ed, who launched himself across the room as quickly as he could. "Damn it, Roy, you can be such a jerk sometimes." He rubbed his wrist against his chest.  
  
The guard came in with their dinners, gave their half naked appearance the barest of looks and shook his head. He placed the dinners on the floor and walked out again.  
  
Ed covered his face with his hand.  
  
  
 ****

**RISK**

****  
  
Roy knew he'd gone too far, but damn it, it had been so tempting. Ed just didn't know how incredibly pleasurable it was to goad him. He was so responsive. The flush, the way his body tensed, the way his eyes would go wide, and then contract, the tone of voice. Edward was the perfect victim.  
  
But honestly, Roy had been a little relieved when the guard had shown up, because for a moment there, he wasn't sure himself how far he'd planned on taking it. The urge to hold the other down and kiss and molest him against his will was almost overpowering. And he'd spoken the truth to Edward when he said he hadn't seen a picture of a woman in 13 months – and who knows when he'd see one in the future.  
  
Meanwhile Ed embodied much of what he loved in women: youth, vigor, a slender, trim physique. Passion. Intelligence. Dedication. Loyalty. And while Roy definitely preferred women, he had made exceptions in the past, and under much less restricted circumstances.  
  
Damn it thirteen months was a long time to go without.  
  
 _So. Damn. Tempting._  
  
And so damn oblivious as well. Even now he could see that Ed had dismissed it all. Chalked it up to teasing. Never even questioned why Roy would be so hell bent on teasing him in the first place.  
  
 _I have an ego,_  Roy wanted to say. _I can get hurt. Can anyone blame me for wanting some plausible deniability?_  
  
And Ed was as much of a tease as he was, objecting with his mouth and leading him on with everything else. Talk about a mixed message.  
  
Ah, but he'd gone too far. He looked over at Ed curled up on his own bed, hiding under the covers to such an extent that only the very top of his hair could be seen. Roy had upset him, and damn it, he needed Ed in a very practical sense. If Roy didn't want to end up a puppet to the Fuhrer, he had to have Ed and his brother on his side. A few minutes of giving in to his baser instincts had pretty well devastated Ed's trust, and if Ed were to tell Al…  
  
Al was key. Absolute key. If Al turned against him because of this, then Roy was toast.  
  
He needed damage control.  
  
He needed to do something that he didn't do very often. He needed to be honest and unguarded, and show Ed that he could be trusted again.  
  
Finger spelling and crude signs weren't going to cut it this time. Communication had to be clear. Easy. Free flowing.  
  
But damn it would be risky. So very risky. But there was no other way.  
  
Roy stood up and walked over to his uneaten food and plucked the spoon off the plate. He then walked over to the desk. With a hard thrust he jabbed the end of the spoon into the soft material of the wall. He jabbed again and again until he felt something imbedded in the rubbery substance break.   
  
He scanned around the room and found another suspicious dent in the ceiling. For this he needed the chair. He stood on it and jabbed up into the ceiling, once, twice, there!  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Ed.  
  
Roy didn't answer. He went to a spot near the door and jabbed again, this time feeling the crunch on the first slam. "I think that's all of them."  
  
Ed sat up in his bed. "You broke the listening devices? Why?" The blanket fell off his shoulders. "They are going to punish you again, you idiot!"  
  
"We were indiscrete earlier. I really don't think Midnight needs to hear what I have to say."   
  
"What would that be," said Ed, guarded.  
  
Roy sat down on his own bed. "I'm sorry. You are right. I am a jerk. But I was honest earlier. The come-ons weren't fake. I'm genuinely attracted to you, Ed. It's hard to admit it frankly, because I'm not sure how _you_ feel about it. And that's disconcerting for me, because usually I can read you very easily."  
  
Roy waited for Ed to say, "I knew it, you pervert. Touch me again and die." Or maybe, more hopefully, "I secretly long for you, too." But Ed didn't say either. Instead he looked perplexed.  
  
"But you are straight… you aren't saying I look like a girl are you?"  
  
Roy rolled his eyes. "Oh, for heaven's… You _don't_ look like a girl, and I am straight, but Ed, very few people in the world are 100 percent attracted to either one sex or another." But Ed's eyes were still wide with astonishment as though Roy were trying to convince him that two plus two equaled five.  
  
Roy sighed. "Very well, we know where I stand on this. What about you? I've never noticed you showing any attraction to anyone. Just what are your preferences?"  
  
Ed's eyes lowered to the floor. "I don't have any preferences." His voice sounded just a bit bitter.  
  
"You aren't attracted to anyone?" But no there was a slight flickering shift of his eyes. "Or do you mean the other way around?" Well, that would be ironic, thought Roy.   
  
"Sex is stupid, Roy, " said Ed. "It just makes people behave like idiots. What's the point of it. Besides, no one has ever shown an interest it me."  
  
Roy smacked his head with the palm of his hand. The kid couldn't _possibly_ believe the last sentence. "Were you not here for my confession?" Roy asked. "I could have sworn I just told you I was interested. Maybe you weren't listening."  
  
"Ok, _one_ very hard up over-sexed person has shown an interest in me, though why I have no idea, because right now I'm about as attractive as a broken toaster." Ed was looking at his prosthetic leg.  
  
"The automail is the problem? You think no one could be interested in you because some of your parts detach?" Roy couldn't help it. He laughed.  
  
"Oh, great, I finally open up about this and you laugh at me. I see this is all a joke."  
  
"You are positively the most stupid kid I've ever met, " Roy said. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at this incredibly ludicrous lie you've been telling yourself." Roy wiped his eyes. "I've never seen a bigger case of denial in all my life. Ed. People have been coming on to you since you were _twelve_. I've had to discipline some of my people for making inappropriate comments about you. Trust me, if you had shown the least bit of interest in anyone, male or female, you'd have had to beat your suitors off with a stick."  
  
Roy shook his head. "But even you don't believe this. You told me yourself that you were having trouble with the guards. How can you wrap your brain around being hideous and at the same time irresistible?  
  
"The guards don't count."  
  
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Really. Who does?"  
  
"People I care about."  
  
"I see." Roy paused. "You need them to be friends first. And apparently once we get to know you, we discover how ugly you are, and can't possibly want you anymore. Is that it?"  
  
Ed nodded.  
  
"I don't think you believe that either," said Roy gently. "I think you are scared. Sex is a big emotional thing, and you are still pretty young. But you are wrong. Sex is most definitely _not_ stupid. It's one of the things that makes life worth living. And when it ends, it isn't always a disaster either. I've had a lot of lovers in the past, and I'm still on amicable terms with all of them."  
  
Taking a risk Roy stood up and crossed the distance between them. Ed didn't move as he sat down on the bed next to him and cupped his chin in the palm of his hand, forcing the young alchemist to look him in the eye.  
  
"Do you trust me?" Roy asked.  
  
"Yes," Ed breathed back.  
  
Roy leaned in and kissed him. He was almost surprised when Ed, tentatively, and carefully, kissed back.


	13. Chapter 13

**MORNING AFTER**

  
  
Roy had missed waking up with his arms around someone. He'd forgotten what a sensual pleasure it was to feel someone else's skin under his fingertips and hear their breath sighing in. Ed fit so neatly against him. It was really quite, quite worth the pain he'd gone through yesterday.  
  
The lights in the room flickered to full brightness, signaling the beginning of the day. Roy actually felt a little disappointed that they would have to go to work in an hour or so. It would have been nice to coax Ed into a second round of exploration, but breakfast was coming soon, and neither of them had eaten dinner.  
  
Ed stretched. Stiffened and then squirmed around to face him a look of surprise on his face. Then, remembering, his expression softened. He pulled Roy's face towards him in a kiss that was just a bit naughty and suggested there wouldn't be too much coaxing needed after all – if they were given any time for it. Which they weren't.  
  
"Good Morning," murmured Roy. "We should get dressed quickly, they'll be here with our food in a few minutes."  
  
The food came as usual. The same rubbery scrambled eggs and too dry toast as every breakfast. Roy swore once he was free he would never eat eggs again. Ed wolfed his down within seconds then gave a somewhat guilty glance towards Roy's picked over plate. "Go ahead." And Ed devoured most of Roy's breakfast as well. How someone that small could eat that much and not grow in some direction was beyond Roy.  
  
The door rattled. Roy fully expected it to be someone to either take back their trays or take them to work, but it was neither. Instead the Thug walked into the room. The red haired man's lips were set in a scowl. Roy knew it was time to pay the price for the brief privacy he'd stolen.  
  
Roy's kept his face placid, but inside his mind shifted into full gear.  _Work this, work this._ But nothing came.  
  
"Mustang," the other growled. "Come."  
  
Roy opened his mouth, but Ed spoke out first. "He didn't do it. I did. If you are going to punish someone, it should be me."  
  
The Thug only gave Ed the briefest dismissive glance. Then turned back to Roy, ice blue eyes showing no patience. "Come."  
  
Ed put himself between them. "I said it was _my_ fault"  
  
Seeing the two of them faced off was so absurd it would have made Roy laugh had it not been so serious. Ed didn't even come up to the Thug's armpits and looked like a waif compared to the massive wall of solid flesh. Of course it was deceiving. Arm or no arm, alchemy or no alchemy, Ed could probably bring the Thug down. But he wouldn't be able to take on all the guards who were gathered just outside the room as well.  
  
There was no good in Ed getting himself thrown off the project. Roy needed the project to succeed. No point in Ed getting tortured.  
  
"Ed," said Roy calmly. And Ed turned, his eyes pleading, not again. "It will be fine," Roy said. "We are just going to talk." He hoped to God that that was what they were going to do. But in case it wasn't…  
  
Roy cleared his voice then his hands moved quickly.  _Tell Al he can do it. I have faith in him. He doesn't need me anymore._ The Thugs eyes narrowed, but Roy made a play as if he was just trying to straighten his shirt.  
  
"No," said Ed, quietly. But his shoulders had lowered in resignation.  
  
"Come."

 

Roy let the Thug take his upper arm and guide him out the door, where the other guards fell into step around them. Their footsteps echoed in a gloomy rhythm. No one spoke.

  
Try as he might he could make no plan come to mind. If the Thug talked, Roy could manipulate the situation somehow, but he didn't. They walked down the hall in stony silence, to the elevator, and down, down. Roy's breath hitched in as he recognized where he was being taken. They walked down a long plain doorless hall for what seemed like miles before reaching another elevator. He'd been here once before – on his way from his old cell to the new one.  
  
The Thug met his eyes again as the waited for the elevator on the other side. He seemed satisfied that Roy knew what was going on. A small, dry smile touched his lips.  
  
Roy was off the project. Out of Lab 5 altogether. He was going back to his old cell, his old brain numbing way of life.  
  
The elevator opened on the administrative wing of the Prison. Through the security door, down two more halls and at last they stepped into a small cell with a single cot, a sink and toilet and nothing else. No books, no desk, no work, no company. No Ed, no Al, no scheming. Nothing but sheer unadulterated boredom to look forward to.  
  
Nothing but a small slit of a window, and sunlight drawing a slow path on the opposite wall.  
  
"Welcome home," said the Thug. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks."  
  
The door shut with a disconcertingly loud clank.  
  
  
 ****

**HOOPS**

  
  
Winry bit her lip and considered her words carefully. In case the letter was intercepted, she dared not write too much, but if she wrote too little, Granny Pinako wouldn't know what to do. She wished she had Mustang's clarity. Much as the man disturbed her (on many levels) she couldn't help but respect his ability to know exactly the right thing to do to get his way.  
  
She stopped and put her pen to her lips in amazement of her own thoughts. Al was totally awed by Mustang. Perhaps that was to be expected, she'd met the man and knew he had a lot of personal magnetism. Something about his voice, and the way he looked at you just made you want to say "yes, sir" and go along. But _she_ hadn't seen the man – hadn't heard his voice, and here she was jumping blindly through his hoops. Damn the guy was good. Did she really want him to be Fuhrer?  
  
Yes, of course she did. Anyone would make a better Fuhrer than the one they had. The steady stream of customers through the hospital doors made that plenty clear. And the ones she saw were only the officers and those enlisted who had wealthy family paying their bills. Many more were coming back missing limbs only to be handed a crutch and a final paycheck and left to make their own way home. And the war was so stupid – over absolutely nothing. Insults. Territory. Power.  
  
This Fuhrer knew nothing of subtlety or negotiation. Nothing but brutal force, and sly underhanded machinations. She couldn't imagine Mustang ever considering the idea of conscription as a way to fill out the army's ranks. She couldn't imagine him starting these wars in the first place.  
  
 _So, hoops, here I come,_ thought Winry. She finished the letter, sealed and stamped the envelope. Then looked hopefully down the dorm hall. There was always an MP somewhere in the building, keeping note of who came and went. She couldn't mail this letter herself, she was under too much scrutiny, but there was no way the jerks in the 5th lab could keep track of everyone.  
  
She walked down the hall glancing into each of the very non-private bedrooms until she caught sight of one of her friends. "Angie!" she called.  
  
"Hey, girl!" The dark skinned woman smiled broadly.  
  
"Do me a big big big big favor, and I'll take one of your cases." Winry put on her biggest puppy dog eyes and brought her hands to her cheek, letter clasped between them.  
  
"Mmm…" said Angie. "I don't know. What is it?"  
  
"Just mail a letter for me."  
  
Angie laughed. "Girl, you are so funny. You don't need to take a case for that. But," she looked sly, "I think I'll take you up on it since you offered. You can have Mr. Sugar."  
  
Winry's smile became a bit more pained. "Uh. Sure," she said weakly. Mr. Sugar had only one hand, but it was one too many. She handed over the letter. "Don't let the MP see it," she said.  
  
Angie cocked her head. "Selling state secrets are you?"  
  
"No, nothing like that. It's for my granny."  
  
"You are weird, girl." But Angie took the letter.  
  
One hoop down. A dozen more to go.  
  
  
 ****

**MISSING AND MISSED**

  
  
Al was surprised when he arrived at the lab to find Ed alone. He looked around the room as if he could have missed Roy amongst the spartan furnishings. He turned back to Ed, who was sitting glumly at the desk. "Where's Mustang?" he asked.  
  
"Talking to some guy," said Ed heavily. "I hate this place. These people have no decency."  
  
Al thought of his escort and his job and the whole situation in general and nodded. "Nothing to do for it," he said and cleared his voice.  
  
Obediently Ed looked over at his brother's hands.  
  
 _MF ok?_    
  
Slight confusion, then recognition. MF was Al's pet term for Roy.  _No._  
  
What had happened to Roy? The last Al had seen they were pulling him out of the room. As far as Al could tell Roy had done absolutely nothing to earn Midnight's ire. It was random things like this that unnerved Al the most. Did they know? Were they on to them? If so, Al would have thought that _he_ would be the one they'd punish the most, but so far they hadn't given him any sign they were upset with him.  
  
What happened?  
  
But Ed just looked away and said aloud. "We should get started."  
  
Reluctantly Al started in on the work, but it was slow slogging, and Ed wasn't helping at all. He seemed decidedly distracted. Al was worried about Roy as well, but not to the point where he looked at the door every 5 minutes. Ed wasn't really listening when he talked either. Something had gone on after they'd left, something Ed wasn't talking about.  
  
 _I suppose it's fitting,_  Al thought.  _We are keeping secrets from each other. Who would have thought we'd come to that._  
  
Roy never showed up that day, and Midnight didn't make his customary appearance either. In the end, Al left with a sick feeling in his stomach, wondering just when the axe was going to fall.  
  
 ****

**THINGS FALL APART**

  
  
Midnight covered his face with his hands, hating the feel of his unshaved beard. He needed to take his clothes to the laundry. He needed to eat. He needed to bathe. And he had no time to do any of it.  
  
And he hated the damn rats. God he hated them with a vengeance. The Elric boy made it seem so easy, draw the array, concentrate and presto, but alone in his private workroom Midnight had followed that procedure now for weeks and had only succeeded in turning rat brains to mush.  
  
Damn it, he _had_ to be able to do this. Had to. The Fuhrer couldn't, and the Elric boys flat out wouldn't, and that left him. And damn it, he was a decent alchemist. Maybe not a genius like the Elrics, but no idiot. It was his idea to be able to enslave minds in the first place. God wouldn't be so cruel as to give him the idea, give him the opportunity, give him the necessity, and then not let him do it.  
  
He let his hands drop and considered the rat again. One more time. Just one more damn time and he'd go and do his laundry, finish his paperwork, check in on the Elrics, listen through the damn tapes that Ashfall seemed to want to shove down his throat, make sure the techs had the animals prepped for the next days work, and then maybe get a shower and some food, and sleep? What the hell was sleep?  
  
He grabbed the rat out of it's glass enclosure carefully holding it behind the neck. He'd been bit too many times not to take care. With the grease pencil he drew the array EXACTLY like it was on the notes in front of him. Then he concentrated. Just a breath of effort. The array lit up satisfyingly. Then he dropped the squirming vermin into the maze.  
  
Then he realized it was still squirming. Hot damn. It nosed about the maze stupidly for a while and eventually by random chance came across its reward.   
  
Midnight smacked his face with relief and then let himself fall back into his chair. At last. Finally. At last.  
  
He let his arms drop limply to his sides, one hand smacking against the desk on it's way down. A report slid off and scattered its papers about his feet.  
  
Numbly, Midnight leaned over and fetched it up. Ashfall's report. He'd blown the guy off this morning, too much work to do, but the Major seemed to think there was something important up. He glanced at the report. More Mustang shenanigans in prison. Damn but this was beginning to read like a raunchy serial novel. Who cared what the bastard was up to with his lab partner, so long as he did his work and kept the boy in check.  
  
Midnight's eyes caught on a paragraph. Then he launched into motion grabbing the phone receiver and dialing from memory.  
  
"You took him off the project?" Midnight asked. "Without consulting me?"  
  
"He disabled the microphones."  
  
"This should have been my decision, not yours."  
  
"With all due respect, " and Midnight could hear that there wasn't much respect at all in the voice, "The Elrics by themselves should be enough for your project. My job is to keep everyone safe. The bastard's been scheming. I know it. He has hand signals he's using to communicate with the Elrics. It's not safe to keep him on this project."  
  
Midnight closed his eyes. "Yes you are right." The Elric's should be enough – but Midnight worried about Ed. Mustang was the only thing keeping Ed in line. He'd have to come up with a new way to ensure the kid's cooperation.   
  
Damn it, he didn't have time for this.


	14. Chapter 14

**EXHIBITION**

  
  
  
Winry came to a stop in front of the massive iron gates of Lab 5. She looked up at the three story building beyond the narrow, barren strip of ground. It was positively the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. There was nothing that was not strictly utilitarian about the building, and even the elements that were utilitarian, such as the door and the windows had a crude, just slightly lopsided feel to them. And there were mold marks on the exterior that seemed to criss-cross in an almost random way. Idiotic Alchemical Engineering Corps at work, she saw. Al had called it "alchemy by committee." Winry called it "structurally unsound."  
  
But in she went anyway. She presented her papers to the guard at the gate. Papers. Good golly. The military always had them, but these days even the civilians had them. If anyone wanted to take a train into or out of Central, they better be ready to present papers, or wait in a long line to be given them. She hoped that Granny would be able to get hers in Risembool, where the lines would be, presumably, shorter.  
  
The guard nodded, and made a call. A few minutes later Al appeared at the front door. She rushed over to hug him. He leaned in and caught her mouth in a passionate kiss, but she broke away. "Not in front of them," she hissed.  
  
Al raised an eyebrow and quirked up the corner of his mouth.  
  
She elbowed him, "You’re an exhibitionist, aren't you," she accused. "I bet you are going to miss the audience."  
  
Al's eyes looked up at the sky in a show of fake innocence. "Now, now." He leaned close. "Did you bring them?" he whispered in her ear.  
  
"In my pocket."  
  
For a second Al looked surprised, but then nodded. Oh, he meant _those_. "You'll see."  
  
They were stopped at the front door. Winry sighed. Al had warned her, so she wasn't too annoyed when the guard asked her to take off her coat and stretch out her arms. He patted her down quickly, and then to her embarrassment checked the pockets of her coat. He pulled the package of condoms out, looked at her, looked at Al, then grinned, putting them back in the pocket.  
  
"You may go, have a good time." And he winked.  
  
"There're no secrets around here, are there?" she said trying to erase the flush from her face. She shrugged her coat back on. It felt heavy -- as it damn well should. Thank God for winter.  
  
"On the contrary," Al said. "This place is chuck full of them. You mean there's no privacy – and yeah, you couldn't be more right." He gave an odd cough and cleared his voice. She saw his hand touch his mouth, then his ear and his eyes rolled towards the wall.  
  
Of course. Of course. Like she could forget. Walls have ears.  
  
They took an elevator up to his room. She noticed there were a lot more buttons on the elevator than there were actual floors to the building – 5 floors at least of basements. Lovely. What a wonderful place to work. But at least Al lived above ground.  
  
His room was positively luxurious. A bathroom with a shower, a desk, a table, even a small refrigerator. She stroked the smooth exterior of the fridge longingly. Where'd they hide the cooling coils?  
  
"Ah-hem," said Al, his arms crossed.   
  
"Sorry," Winry said and then ran over to him.   
  
He caught her up in his arms and picked her off the floor and almost tossed her on the bed. He then fell like a toppled tree. She rolled away before he could land on her. Disappointed he sighed. "I don't think I can take it anymore, Winry. Take pity on a poor, non-wounded soldier. I'm so horny I could scream." He crawled into her embrace.  
  
She kissed him. "I think I can do something about that. But you have to promise me something."  
  
"What's that."  
  
"You'll SHUT UP!" She rolled her eyes at the walls.  
  
"You are no fun."  
  
"Exhibitionist," she muttered and covered his mouth to keep him from replying.

 

  
  
Later they attended to the other matter. Winry put her winter parka on the desk and looked around for something useful. She found a letter opener in one of the drawers. Not ideal, but it would do. With a little finesse and a little muscle she worked the sharp tip between the stitches of the seam, high up on the parka near an armhole. She tore out the new stitching, then forced the dull blade down tearing a large enough hole to fit her hand. She put her bare arm down into the insulation until her fingers met a small oil cloth sack within. She grabbed it and pulled it out, then reached in again, and pulled another, and then another, and another.  
  
Al came up behind her and wrapped his arms under hers, lacing his fingers across her chest and kissing her down the back of her neck and over her bare shoulder.   
  
Winry tried to ignore him. She quickly opened the cloths. A small pair of regular pliers, needle nosed pliers, a screwdriver, and hex wrenches. All in good order. She closed the cloths again. "Got someplace I can put this?"  
  
"Mmm hmm."  
  
He went over to the bed and showed a small torn spot on the side of the mattress. They tucked the tools into the hole. Al then held a piece of paper with an alchemy circle. It lit up. Then he touched the hole and it disappeared as if it had never been made. He tucked the sheets back down again.  
  
He did the same thing with her coat. It looked flawless when he was through. Well that was neater than sewing, Winry thought. Maybe there was a use for alchemy after all.  
  
"Hoop six, " she muttered.  
  
"What's that?" Al asked.  
  
"Mmm, nothing." She grabbed his ponytail and led him back to the bed. "Now where were we?"  
  
  
 ****

**SECRETS**

  
  
Al couldn't keep the spring out of his step as he went to work. Maybe Winry was right because he didn't mind one bit the smirks on the people he passed. Maybe he did have an exhibitionist streak in him. Who would have guessed. He frankly hoped that he'd see Midnight again so he could flaunt it in his face. I'm getting some and you aren't. Ha ha.  
  
But then there was Ed. Hmmm. Maybe not such a good idea. Was Ed still jealous of them? Sometimes Al wasn't certain who his brother resented more, Al for stealing Winry from him, or Winry for stealing Al. But it was all so immature. Winry was right. Ed just needed to get used to it. After flaunting his relationship to the entire goddamn _army_ , it seemed stupid to try to pretend it didn't exist to his brother.  
  
And he hated all these secrets that were dividing them. He hated the distance that had grown up somehow between them. It had started with Ed's research trips, when the separation was unavoidable, but the closeness was there every time his brother returned. But now, working side by side with Ed, there was just something missing. Some level of trust had been stripped away somewhere down the line. They were no longer a united front against the world.  
  
That hurt.  
  
There should be no more secrets between them. Al vowed this, but he knew it would be a hard promise to keep.  
  
Ed wasn't in the lab when he got there. That was strange. Usually the guards were more locked to the clock than Al was.  
  
Al sucked in a breath. Did Ed do something stupid and get pulled off the project?  
  
But no, he could hear Ed's voice echoing off the corridors outside. Irate. There were two guards escorting him today and his wrist was manacled to a belt around his waist. His hair was loose and his expression was just a bit wild.  
  
Oh, Brother, thought Al. What have you been up to?  
  
The guards freed up his arm and Ed stalked into the room with a growl.  
  
"Are you ok?" asked Al.  
  
"Roy's gone. They never brought him back to the cell. I've been trying to get these bastards to tell me what they did with him, but they won't say boo."  
  
"I'm sure he's ok," said Al, not knowing anything of the sort, but Ed was likely to do stupid things if he stayed in this state. "He can take care of himself. And we don't need him."  
  
That got a weird look from his brother.  
  
Al knew the plan, he had to, he was already carrying it out. But Ed didn't, Al suddenly realized. The fact that Ed didn't know meant that Roy didn't think he could handle it. That he'd do something rash if he knew. And that meant that Al probably shouldn't tell Ed either because the stakes were not small. And that meant there was one more goddamn secret between them, tearing them apart.  
  
No. No more secrets, that's what his heart said. But his mind said, Roy is always right. Roy never does anything without a reason. Ed isn't ready.  
  
They got down to work – or more accurately, AL got down to work, because Ed was close to useless. He twitched, he stared at the door, he glared at the guard and he kept muttering "Stupid," under his breath as if it were some mantra. It was really hard to believe that Ed would get this worked up over Roy of all people. There must be something else bothering him, but Al had no clue what it could be.  
  
 _What's wrong?_ He signed to Ed, somewhat impatiently.  
  
"None of your business," Ed muttered back. He then sat down and started writing notes.  
  
Notes? On what? They hadn't accomplished anything all morning. He looked over his brother's shoulder and saw stick figure cartoon strips of Midnight being killed in various deranged ways, and his brother dancing on the corpse.  
  
Al rolled his eyes.  _Now who was the mature Elric? Mmmm? Older brother, my foot._  
  
Midnight was going to be pissed at them unless Al found some way to get Ed back to work.  "Ok.  If I tell you why I enlisted will you tell me why you are buggy?"

Ed looked up immediately and considered. "Why did you enlist?"  
  
"I did it to save Winry."  
  
Ed blinked.  
  
"They were going to send her to the front. Probably to the most dangerous front they had, or at least that was the vibe I was getting. They told me if I signed on she'd get an assignment here in Central. So I did, and she did."  
  
"You knew how I'd feel about you signing up," said Ed.  
  
"Yeah, but it was let you down or let her die. Tell me which you have chosen?"  
  
Ed glared, then turned his head away. "I'd have chosen her, of course. But Al, why the hell didn't you just tell me this a couple of days ago. You know they tortured Roy over our little fight? I mean real torture, not just a fist in his face."  
  
Al's mouth went dry. "They did _what?_ "  
  
"Talk to Midnight about it. It was his idea apparently."  
  
"That is messed up!"  
  
"I say screw it," said Ed. "I'm not working this anymore. I'm not doing anything for that bastard. And if he has a problem with that, he can bite my butt."  
  
"You can't," hissed Al. "I need your help." Al looked hopelessly over at the animal cages. "You are better at coming up with new arrays than I am. I mean, I'm close. I know I'm close, but there is something just a bit wrong with what I have. I need you to tell me what that is!"  
  
But Ed closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nope. This alchemist's on strike."


	15. Chapter 15

**DELAY**

  
  
_It always happens this way_ , thought Midnight. _You let something slide so you can get something else done, and what do you know that one thing blows up in your face the moment your back is turned._  
  
They were just one baby step away from the final goal and going full steam. Then Midnight neglected the lab for two days. That's all it took for his project to grind to a complete halt.  
  
Now Mustang was pulled off the project, Edward had up and quit, and Al was spending his time doodling and reading, claiming he needed some inspiration to go further. So instead of getting caught up with his paperwork and other duties, as Midnight had hoped, he had to spend most of the day wracking his brains trying to fine tune an original array.  
  
This was _so_ not his forte. Damn it, he knew all about the principles of light and wavelengths, how they bent through different media, but when it came to brain structures and chemistry, he knew about as much as any man with an anatomy book did. He was an idea person, not a nuts and bolts kind of guy. This was why he _had_ a staff.  
  
If Ashfell were there, he would have said "This was predictable," and have hinted with his eyes that Midnight was an idiot to have not dealt with it.  
  
Damn right it was predictable. Which is why he didn't want Mustang pulled off. Or if he was pulled off, he wanted it to be for something related to the project, not security. Honestly, just how much could Mustang do from behind bars? His only contacts were his jailors who wouldn't help him, his cellmate, who couldn't, and Al who was kept on a very short leash.   
  
Ashfell was so full of himself right now, so sure he'd caught the man in the act of some grand conspiracy, that he failed to account for one serious logical inconsistency. If Mustang used hand signals to communicate, _why the hell did he disable the microphones?_  
  
Rather than making a scene about it, it would have been better to observe them, and learn the signals himself. Then he could have gotten an unguarded look into that scheming bastard's mind. Too late for that now.  
  
Oh, Gods, the Fuhrer already timed his return to Central based on how the project had been progressing when there were three intelligent motivated alchemists working on it. Midnight _really_ didn't want to report in that he'd hit a delay. There was something about the way the Fuhrer emphasized his expectations that made Midnight worry that delay might be really inadvisable. Really, _really_ inadvisable.  
  
He had to get Al back to work. Which meant he had to get Ed to work. Which meant he had to motivate the kid to want to work. And right now the only motivation he could come up with was to offer the kid's lover back.  
  
Ashfall was going to be very upset.  
  
  
 ****

**VISITOR**

  
  
Roy was surprised when the door opened again. It was too soon for lunch, and far too soon for a visitor, but a visitor was precisely what it turned out to be. He fully expected to be forced to wait at least a week, if not several before hearing another voice. By then the torture of boredom would have had a chance to work on his mind, dulling his IQ, making him more amenable. As it was, he was still plenty sharp, and pissed off to boot.  
  
It was the Weasel. Roy was surprised. He hadn't seen the Weasel for a couple of months – not since before he'd started working on the project.  
  
The Weasel gave him a toothy grin. "Hey, Roy, babe. So you got yourself in a little trouble I heard. Had to come down and see for myself. Lo and behold, here you are in solitary again."  
  
"Here I am," said Roy guardedly. Ah, yes, this was why he hated this man.  
  
"What, you didn't like that job we lined up for you?"  
  
"I liked it."  
  
"Had a little fight with your roomie? You could have just asked to be separated, you know."  
  
"I get along fine with Edward."  
  
"Then why did you take out the microphones? You had to know that would get you into trouble. You don't seem the self-destructive type."  
  
"I have no idea what you are talking about, what microphones?"   
  
The Weasel sat down on Roy's bed a foot away from him. "Oh, man, don't play dumb. We want to get you back on board, but you gotta play along."  
  
Roy allowed a small smile to form. Something wasn't going as planned. Probably Edward acting up again. Hope made his heart hammer. "What would you like me to do?"  
  
"That's the way, babe." The Weasel slapped his back jovially. "Tell us why you knocked out the microphones and I'll see what I can do to get you back on track."  
  
"I did it to have a private conversation with Ed."  
  
"What would you need to talk privately with him about?"  
  
"Nothing that concerns you. "  
  
The Weasel bent his head forward. "Roy, Roy, this isn't forthcoming. I need something I can work with, convince the man that you weren't conspiring to take over the world or something."  
  
Roy chuckled. "Fullmetal is a formidable alchemist, but I doubt anything I could have said to him in one night would get me that. Very well, but this is rather damaging to my reputation. I was seducing Edward and I didn't feel like giving Midnight lessons in manipulation – he's rather too into that for my taste anyway."  
  
The Weasel looked surprised. "Why would you want to seduce Edward?"  
  
Roy raised an eyebrow "He was there. It was a personal challenge. It was fun." This was about the most disgusting thing he'd said in a long time. It took something that had felt very good and special and turned it into something tawdry, cheap and borderline abusive. He dearly hoped this wouldn't get back to Ed. On the other hand, he didn't want Midnight thinking that he really cared about Edward, and could use Ed's welfare as a means of manipulating him. If anyone had to suffer torture, Roy wanted it to be himself.  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
"Of course." Roy let his voice convey mild hurt that anyone could possibly question his skill in that area.  
  
The Weasel pursed his lips in distaste. That was fine. Roy didn't care what the Weasel thought of him. But the Weasel had an act to put on. Although it was so phony it was almost corny, he had to pretend to be on Roy's side. So after a pause he perked up his grin and slapped Roy's back again.   
  
"You should have left the recorders on. Midnight could use a lesson on how to get laid."

  
  
  
 **BIRTHDAY PRESENT**

 

  
  
It was with extreme mixed emotions that Midnight made his way down to the cells in the fourth basement level of Lab 5. He hesitated at the one that held Ed. It was Edwards 18th birthday and how ironic, Midnight was bringing him a "gift."  
  
The jailer opened the door and Midnight walked in. Ed was lying on his bunk, head towards the door, one leg propped on the other knee. He didn't even bother to look around when Midnight walked in. He just casually raised his only arm and offered up his middle finger to whoever happened to be there.  
  
"Happy birthday, Fullmetal."  
  
"Screw you, Midnight. I'm not working on your project anymore."  
  
"What does Roy Mustang mean to you."  
  
"He's an asshole and I hope he rots in whatever hole you put him." Ed was a lousy liar. "If you are going to torture him again because I'm not working, go ahead. It's not like I will know if you really did or didn't. Hell you can kill him, too. Or just say you did and not. All the same to me. Out of sight, out of mind."  
  
Midnight snorted. "You are one of the worst manipulators I've ever met. I've a deal for you, If you come back to work, I will bring him back on the project again."  
  
"Mmm." It was a definitely positive noise, but he seemed to be hesitating, holding out for something more.  
  
"And he will be roomed with you again, if you really want that. I can understand if you don't." Midnight hoped the kid would say no to the rooming. It made him a little sick putting that pervert back in the cell with Ed. Fullmetal didn't deserve that. Still, telling the kid just what a cad his lover was wasn't going to make Ed want to go back to work.   
  
"Mmmm. Ok. When will I see him?"  
  
"We can bring him by in a few minutes – but Ed."  
  
Ed rolled over and arched up, resting on his forearm. His hair was loose and tousled and his eyes looked strangely sunken, as though he was very tired. "Yes."  
  
"If you don't make some real progress in the next week, I'm pulling that bastard off the project again. We are seriously behind schedule. And if I catch _any_ of you using hand signals, Mustang is gone. I will not tolerate scheming and conspiracy."   
  
  
 ****

**EMBRACE**

  
  
Ed stood up when the door opened again. He watched Roy step in looking, well frankly, great. Smiling, standing tall. Wherever they had taken him they hadn't been too bad. Ed held himself in check until the door shut again and they were as alone as they would ever be in that place. Then he launched himself at the other.  
  
Roy opened his arms and grabbed the younger man in a tight possessive hug. Ed melted into the embrace. It felt so damn good. So damn good. Roy released him after a few moments, held him at arms length and quietly took him in.  
  
"You look great," said Ed, breaking the silence because he felt he had to. "Where'd they put you, the spa?"  
  
"I wish, but no. You look terrible. Neglecting yourself in my absence again, I see."  
  
Ed frowned. "They took the goddamn brush when you left."  
  
"Ah, I wondered about that. But here I thought you were pining for me." Roy chuckled and pulled him close again. "You made a total nuisance of yourself didn't you."  
  
"Absolutely," grinned Ed.  
  
"Perfect. I've trained you well," Roy whispered in his ear.  
  
"Oh no, no, no, you don't get the credit on this one," whispered Ed back. "I pulled your ass out of the fire. You owe me."  
  
"Well it worked out very nicely. Thank you. Now they think that only I can keep you in check. I must say that is very good to my ego. Tell me, is it true?"  
  
"You are teasing me again," said Ed warningly.  
  
"It's what I do." He kissed Ed. Damn. It was worth the teasing for that. "I missed you."  
  
"Me, too," said Ed.  
  
"Happy birthday, Ed." And that was the last thing either said for quite a while.


	16. Chapter 16

  
  
****

**TATTOO**

  
  
Winry found she was actually looking forward to getting tattooed. At first she had faked the enthusiasm for appearances sake, but as the days wore on she found herself rubbing the soft area on the back of her hand between the metacarpals for her thumb and forefinger. It was going to hurt, of course, but not too bad, and there was something romantic about sharing a tattoo with the man she loved.  
  
She waited in the lobby of Lab 5 for Al to come for her. The guards were quite used to her by now, giving her papers only the briefest courtesy glances, and patting her down quickly and carelessly. She had nothing in her coat – no, the incriminating evidence was tucked, a little uncomfortably, in her boots this time.  
  
Al came down the hall waving his arm at her. She knew better than to run for him, fast movements made the 5th lab people nervous. So she waited for him to walk over to her and put his arms around her. "Ready?"  
  
"As I'll ever be," she murmured back, and kissed him. "Let's go."  
  
But Al didn't move. She felt his shoulders heave a little. She broke from the embrace, a little worried. But before she could ask a question she heard a voice behind them. "I'm here. We can go now." She looked up and saw Midnight.  
  
It had been almost three months since she'd last seen him, but she hadn't forgotten his face. The last time she'd seen it, she was busy putting her fist into it. Then the world had gone dark on her. She suppressed an urge to spit on him. This was Al's – well "boss" would probably be the official term, but "keeper" was more accurate. He could make life very hard on them if he chose to. Besides he would be getting his just deserts in a couple of weeks. She could wait.  
  
They walked to the tattoo shop in silence, just the four of them, herself, Al, Midnight and the ever present MP. Very romantic, thought Winry, but she made the best of it, holding Al's hand and pointedly ignoring the others.  
  
"I'll go first," said Al. As expected, Midnight and the MP were far more interested in Al than her. Neither of them gave more than half a glance in her direction when she asked to use the restroom. Inside the stall, she pulled off her shoe and collected the bills, counting it off in her hand, then folding the wad and stuffing it into the pocket of her parka. She laced her boot up again.  
  
Al was still being tattooed when she returned to the main shop. Midnight and the MP weren't even looking in her direction, so she went up to the skinny old man manning the register and caught his eye.  
  
"Are we a go?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Got the money?"  
  
"Here's the first half. The second will come in 2 weeks. My grandma will be bringing it. She'll also pick the item up. Her name is Pinako. She'll mention my name."  
  
The old man nodded. She passed over the money. He turned his body away from the back room and carefully counted it out, then tucked it in the register.  
  
"We'll need ink and an instruction manual as well."  
  
"That's included," said the old man. "Any color?"  
  
"Black will do."  
  
"Thanks."   
  
Winry hurried back to the room where the tattoo artist was pressing a dressing on to Al's hand. "My turn?" she asked.  
  
"Have a seat," said the artist.  
  
  
 ****

**QUESTIONS**

  
  
  
Midnight waved lazily towards the animal crates in the corner of the room. "They have all been completely trained in standard commands. Sit, come, heel. I assume at least ONE of you has had a dog as a pet at some point?"  
  
There was silence for a moment, then Al spoke up, "My girlfriend had a dog."  
  
Midnight considered the three alchemists wearily. Al sat backwards in a chair, his arms draped over the wooden back, one thumb absentmindedly poking his healing tattoo. Mustang stood, arms folded, a few feet away, his face at it's most unreadable. And there was Edward, perched up on the desk, slouching and swinging his feet around like a six year old. For all the pretext at boredom, his eyes were very hard and focused. He was hanging on Midnight's words.  
  
"Anyway, they have been trained in the commands, but they've also been trained to only take these commands from their trainer, and not from anyone else."  
  
Midnight paced over to the first cage. "Your job will be to come up with and activate an array that will make the dog take commands from someone other than his handler. All of you will brainstorm the array. Either Ed or Al may draw it, but I believe Al should be the one to activate it. Then I will give the dog the commands."  
  
Ed raised his hand like some school kid. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "But what does this have to do with battle fatigue."  
  
 _Absolutely nothing,_ thought Midnight, but he could hardly say that. "The problem with battle fatigue is that it is different from person to person. A therapist would need to be able to isolate out the emotions and memories that trigger flashbacks and panic attacks. This array will work like an advance form of hypnotherapy."  
  
Al spoke up. "Why you? Wouldn't it be easier to have the dog obey my commands? I'm the one activating the array after all."  
  
God, these kids were perceptive, but Midnight had an answer for this as well. "Very few therapists are also alchemists. Very few alchemists are therapists. Having one activate the array so the other can do her job makes much more sense than forcing the alchemist to do double duty. In this scenario, I will be standing in for the therapist." And in about three weeks, he thought, the Furher will be playing that role.  
  
Ed's eyes narrowed. "Seems like an awful lot of power. I mean, technically speaking, you can put this array on someone and then order them to do anything. Run naked through the park. Quack like a duck. It seems to me that this has a lot of potential for abuse."  
  
"Which is why we are going to have to fine tune some safeguards in. First safeguard is that the subject only be susceptible to the words of _one_ person only. The second will be that the susceptibility last only as long as the array remains on their skin. But the actual suggestions themselves will have to be permanent; otherwise the moment the array is washed off the victim will be back to square one. Have I answered your questions?"  
  
Reluctantly, Ed nodded.   
  
"Does this mean you are going to spending your day with us?" asked Roy.  
  
Midnight smiled. "I'm afraid so. Mustang." And keeping a mighty close eye on YOU my friend.  
  
Mustang nodded and smirked,  _I accept the challenge,_ those eyes seemed to say.  
  
  
  
 ****

**DRUG**

  
  
Al watched Winry tear open her parka again and reach down into the lumpy insulation and bring out the small glass bottle contained within. Unlike most of the things she'd transported, this one was both breakable and not particularly easy to hide in a parka. They had held their breaths while the guard at the front door did his typical pat down. Winry had turned the pockets out before balling the coat and placing it on the table. The guard hadn't even touched the coat, and barely touched her before waving her on.  
  
"What's the dosage?" whispered Al.  
  
"How much does he weigh?"  
  
"I guess 180, 190 give or take."  
  
"I'd use the whole bottle."  
  
She fetched the mayonnaise jar from the refrigerator and gently pushed the small bottle into the soft white mess. "Be careful when you go to make your next sandwich," she advised.  
  
"Won't they miss it?" murmured Al in her ear.  
  
"Yes, but stuff goes missing all the time at the hospital.  Last week half our morphine up and vanished overnight. Unless someone looks real hard, they'll just think it was sold on the black market."  
  
"Date rape drug, eh."  
  
Winry socked his arm. "Don't you even think that!"  
  
Al laughed until he fell on to the mattress. "But gosh, he's soooo sexy, Winry."  
  
"I'll give you sexy, "she said and joined him on the bed.  
  
  
 ****

**WINRY'S ROUTINE**

  
  
  
The week passed uneventfully. Mornings she woke, washed up, and got ready for the day. She spent a few minutes checking on her patients, avoiding Mr. Sugar's roaming hand, ignoring his innuendo. Then on to the real work: making the automail. She got in lunch when she could. Then repeated.  
  
Sometime in the afternoon, she took something apart. Two days ago it was an extension cord. It had been in the broom closet for who knows how long. It had dust on it. Now it was in three pieces, one of which she was threading into her much abused parka.   
  
Tonight after work, she'd walk by the deli and get cold cuts and baguettes for dinner. She'd walk over to the 5th lab, let the guards look at her dinner and lightly paw her over, and then it was on to a delightful evening of mischief of several types in Al's room.  
  
Al was getting nervous about the whole thing. She wished that she could help him, but she couldn't. This was something he'd have to deal with himself. Although she would never tell Al this, she found his worry to be slightly annoying. After all, _she'd_ been risking her butt over and over again for weeks on this plan. If the idiots who manned the 5th lab had ever got it into their heads to do a real pat down, she would have been toast. Not to mention the fact that she was stealing things left and right from her workplace. She could have gotten caught so many times, and any one of those times would have spelled disaster.  
  
She dealt with it.  
  
Roy's plan was going to work. Al was going to make it work. In fact it was going to be stunning success, and Al should darned well _believe_ that.  
  
Instead he bit his lip and faced the window, and looked deep into his own head.

After sex, she used needle nosed pliers and electrical tape to splice the extension cord together again. Al put it into the rather well stuffed mattress and tucked down the sheets.  It was getting to be routine.  
  
"This is going to work," she breathed into his ear. "Mustang may be an ass, but he knows his stuff."  
  
"We can't use hand signs anymore. I just wish I could confirm things with him. What if there is something small but vital that I've forgotten?"  
  
Winry just patted his shoulder. "Don't doubt yourself. You are smart. You can trouble shoot things yourself. You don't need him."  
  
She just wished she could get Al to believe it.  
  
  
 ****

**PINAKO'S VISIT**

  
  
Pinako had forgotten what a pain it was to travel. The lines for papers were bad enough, but the three day train ride had stretched into four after no less then eight delays.  
  
She'd forgotten how hard the seats were. She'd forgotten how cold and drafty the cars were. She'd forgotten how rotten the food was – or maybe she hadn't forgotten that one. Perhaps it was just that this time the fare was particularly bad. As a result she checked into her hotel room in Central feeling very out of sorts, nauseated, and more than a little sore.  
  
Some days she felt very old and frail, and it seemed like the world had a personal vendetta against her.   
  
She had known that the military was probably going to take Ed away. She worried that Al would somehow fall into their greedy hands, but never had she guessed that they would snatch Winry, too. Kidnapped, literally, under her own nose. And Pinako felt more than a little guilt about that. Had she just kept her temper in check, and not let on how valuable Winry was, her grandchild might be home at this moment, making lunch and working on the family business.  
  
She missed Winry. It made her belly burn to think that after taking both her children, the army had found a way to take her only grandchild as well. It wasn't fair.  
  
Doing this favor for Winry was the least she could do to make up for it. The money was no small potatoes, but Pinako could afford it. She did feel a bit awkward wandering around the dangerous city streets with so much in her wallet. All the military police didn't make her feel any safer.   
  
The first thing she did after checking into her hotel room, even before seeing Winry herself, was look up the tattoo parlor. She found it without too much difficulty, even thought Winry's directions were a bit hazy. The man at the register took her money and slid over a brown paper bag. Pinako looked inside.  
  
A tattoo machine, needles, two bottles of ink and an instruction manual. Lordy, what was the girl up to?  
  
Shaking her head she left the shop and went to her next destination – a pastry shop. She browsed for a few minutes before buying a dozen donuts and asking for their largest bag to carry them in. She stopped at the park, then carefully pushed the tattooing supplies to the bottom of the large bag and arranged the pastries over them.  
  
 _So cloak and dagger,_ thought Pinako. _I'm really too old for this. And honestly, will anyone be following me? S_ he looked around the park, but saw no one paying her any attention whatsoever.  _Ah the benefits of being old. One does tend to become invisible._  
  
She finally made her way to the hospital. A very nice MP lead her to the workroom where Winry and a dozen others fitted together automail, in an almost factory-like setting. The MP didn't even look in the bag.  
  
"Granny!" shrieked Winry and ran to embrace her.   
  
"Lordy, girl, don't squeeze too hard, my stomach is still a bit off from the train ride."  
  
"Oh, Granny, I missed you so much." Winry was crying.  _Poor thing. How scary this must all be to her._  
  
"Do you have time for lunch? I brought some sweets."  
  
"Oh, YES!"  
  
Winry brought Pinako back to her room. Pinako took in the three sets of bunk beds crammed into a tiny room and shook her head. "They don't treat you too well here do they."  
  
"Well," said Winry. "The hours aren't too bad, but the ambiance is pretty horrible." Winry dug into the treats. "Close the door for me, please?" She lifted out the bag.  
  
Pinako tested her stomach on a glazed donut while she watched her brilliant granddaughter turn a rather compact and elegant tattooing machine into about a hundred small unrecognizable parts. "You should label those, dear," she cautioned.  
  
"Oh granny, like I could ever forget where something went."  
  
"I've known you to forget a screw now and then."  
  
"I can't label them." Winry had turned serious. She got some oil cloth pouches and began parceling out the pieces. Half of them she shoved into the lining of her parka, the rest she shoved into a hole in her pillow. She then got out the needle and thread and sewed everything closed again.   
  
"Who is going to get tattooed," Pinako asked after a while.  
  
"No one you know." Winry's eyes were twinkling. "Shhhh. It's our secret."  
  
"So I figured."  
  
Winry took a donut and bit down. "Thank you Granny. I owe you a lot."  
  
"Just get yourself back home as soon as you can. It's hard doing it all myself," said Pinako. "Really hard."


	17. Chapter 17

  
  
****

**VIRGINITY**

  
  
  
Working with Midnight was a bit of a pain, but not as bad as Al thought it would be. In fact, at times he actually forgot how much he disliked the man. Midnight for all his irritability and macho pretensions, was respectful and courteous, and even had interesting ideas of his own. There were moments when they related, not as dictator and subject, or even boss and underling, but as colleagues, with just the faintest trace of friendship.  
  
Al didn't know if this made the plan easier to carry out or not, but the practical side of him realized that having Midnight at ease with him would be a good idea. So deliberately Al went about to show, in small words and gestures, that he liked having Midnight around. Every time he did, he was given an exasperated look from Ed, and a mildly approving one from Roy. Midnight seemed almost pathetically grateful for the camaraderie.  
  
 _He doesn't have many friends,_  Al realized.  _He just doesn't know how to relate to people._  
  
As Al's birthday approached, he began the final phases of the plan. He only wished that he could consult with Roy, who, for all his being only feet away, was totally unable to answer any of his questions.  
  
 _Winry is right. I am smart. I can do this on my own._ And so he tentatively brought up a crucial subject, in the most innocent way he could.  
  
"Saturday's my birthday, " Al suddenly said to Roy. "And I'm planning a romantic dinner in my room with Winry. I was thinking I should get some wine to go with the take out. I was wondering what you'd recommend."  
  
Roy smiled and said "I've always favored a champaign for special occasions."  
  
Al nodded. He looked over at Midnight. "What would you recommend?"  
  
"Well, I'm not much into wine. I could tell you about beers."  
  
Al smiled. He's a beer man. I can go with that. "Winry might prefer beer, perhaps I should have some of that too. What kind do you like best?"  
  
Midnight raised an eyebrow. "Personally, I like the chewy stuff. A good dopplebach. But I doubt your girl would like that. There are some fruity beers out there that girls seem to like. I'd go with one of them."  
  
Ed spoke up. "Maybe Winry won't want anything alcoholic. You two are pretty young to be drinking, uh, alone in your room. If she gets drunk she might… er… you might end up doing something you'll regret later." He blushed.  
  
Midnight and Al exchanged glances, and even the guard in the corner couldn't suppress a sudden guffaw.  
  
Ed looked around, at Al, at Midnight, at Roy who was smirking into his hand, then over at the guard who was covering up for his sudden intrusion into the conversation. "What is it that all of you know that I don't?"  
  
It was time to let Ed in on the worst kept secret in the entire army. "Ed," said Al as gently as he could. "Winry and I have been having sex every night for the last month. I doubt there is anything she'd do drunk that she hasn't already done sober."  
  
Ed's mouth dropped open.  
  
Al favored him with a smug smile and patted him on the back. "I'm afraid you are the only virgin Alchemist left in the room."  
  
Ed blushed and glanced over at Roy who was hiding a full blown smile under that hand now. Midnight glanced at Roy and then adopted a look of forced innocence– and the guard again guffawed.  
  
 _No. Way. NO WAY._ Al looked at Ed, then over at Roy and back again. "You are _kidding_ me," he said. He shook his head in denial. "Not him! Anyone but him – you _hate_ him!"   
  
All kinds of emotions built up under Al's skin in a jumble and he found himself grabbing the orange lapel of Roy's shirt and looking up fiercely into dark eyes. He balled a fist. "What have you done to my brother?" he asked in his most deadly voice.  
  
"Now, now," said Roy weakly raising his hands. "I haven't done anything that he didn't agree to."  
  
"You sweet-talked him into it, I know. You can sweet-talk anyone into anything. Why my brother? Why him?"  
  
"Al," growled Midnight.  
  
"Al!" said Ed in something of a desperate wail. Ed grabbed his fist and pulled Al away from Roy. Reluctantly Al let go of Roy's shirt.  
  
"How dare he," seethed Al. "Brother, that was low of him."  
  
Ed pulled him close. "Al, " he whispered. "I'm in love with him. Let him be."  
  
"You can't be, he's got you mesmerized or something. I know how he is, he does that to people."  
  
"Al, It's my choice. You chose Winry, I chose him. I've never gotten on your back for who you chose. Don't get on me about my choices. And at least I'm an adult. And neither of us can get pregnant – are you two even using protection?"  
  
"Of course we are!" said Al, "And don't switch the subject."  
  
"Actually, let's _do_ change the subject," said Midnight uncomfortably. "We've still got work to do." He gave Ed a look that meant… something, Al wasn't sure what, but it had a profound effect. Ed suddenly stepped back and stood close to Roy.   
  
"I've been making adult decisions for myself for more than seven years," said Ed, softly. "I'm not going to fight you on this one. I'm just asking you, respect me and let it go."  
  
Al puffed up and then let out a breath. There was no point in having the project fall apart over this. There would be a time later to discuss this more fully. "Very well, " he said at last. "So we have no virgins left in the room."  
  
"Not to worry, Al, " said Roy. "If you feel that a virgin is necessary for this project, we still have one available." He gave a sly glance at Midnight, who narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Back to work, every one." Midnight said gruffly and turned back to the animal crates.  
  
  
 ****

**THE PLAN**

  
  
Roy spooned closer to Ed. The lights were dimmed and he could hear Ed breathing in soft, almost snores. It was time. Past time really. Almost too late. But the discussion they'd had earlier that day had jarred it into his head that his actions could easily be interpreted as predatory rather than honest. If Ed lost faith in him now… Roy didn't want Ed to lose faith.  
  
He softly stroked Ed's hair and kissed him gently behind the ear before whispering, "Wake up. Wake up."  
  
"Hnn?"  
  
"It's time," said Roy.  
  
"Wha? Time to work?" He rolled over to face Roy, heavily lidded and confused.   
  
Roy stole a quick kiss and then said. "No, it's time you were in on the plan."  
  
Ed blinked hard a couple of times and then seemed to focus. "Something's up?"  
  
"Yes. With luck the day after tomorrow you will be freed."  
  
"What about you?" asked Ed.  
  
"I'll remain in here for a bit longer. Another couple of weeks perhaps. Not much more than that, I hope."  
  
Ed slid his arm around Roy and buried his face in his chest. "I don't want to be free if you are still in here."  
  
Roy sighed. He didn't much want Ed to be freed either… and perhaps it wasn’t strictly necessary, though Al expected it. Perhaps Al's knowing about them was a good thing after all – though Roy suspected he had a lot of explaining to do before all would be copasetic between them again.  
  
"In any case, you will have your arm back."  
  
"Mmmm, sweet. That would be nice. How are you arranging that?"  
  
Roy told him.  
  
Sometime in the explanation Ed's arm tightened into a grip like steel and Ed's breath became somewhat strained. "That is horrible, " said Ed at last. "That's… evil."  
  
"I know."  
  
"How many people will we have to do this to?" Roy almost sighed with relief. Ed had said "we." He hadn't rejected the plan. He hadn't turned away from Roy in abject horror. He said "we."  
  
"A dozen or more I imagine. But we can be careful. A few key people here and there should suffice. And later, perhaps we can reverse it. You can do your part, can't you?"  
  
A pause, then. "Yes. As long as no one dies, I can do this."  
  
"Then I promise you. No one will die."  
  
"Not even the Fuhrer?"  
  
"Especially not him."  
  
  
 ****

**THE FINAL STEPS**

  
  
  
Al let Winry be. It was by far the most complicated job she'd had to do in Al's apartment, but bit by bit, she pieced together the tattooing machine. Al longed to go over to her and play with her golden hair, kiss the back of her neck, along the spine, but he knew he shouldn't distract her.  
  
He had his own job to do.  
  
Pursing his lips in disgust he wiggled his fingers deep into the mayonnaise. It felt utterly gross, but he kept fishing about until his fingers met the glass bottle he'd hidden a week before. It was slippery, but he pulled it out along with a large glob of slimy condiment. He took the bottle over to the sink and washed it off with soap. Then for good measure he tossed out the rest of the mayonnaise. It was not fit for consumption anymore.  
  
He took out a piece of paper and drew a quick array. Then fetched two bottles of beer from the fridge. He popped the cap on both of them, and took a couple of quick swallows from one before dumping the clear drug into it. He then put the cap back on, activated the array and watched with satisfaction as the cap molded itself again to the bottle top. It looked pristine.  
  
Ed was right. There were a lot of ways you could abuse alchemy. And he was going right down the list.  
  
He took the other bottle of beer and drank it down quickly. His conscience felt much better when he finished.   
  
"I'm all done," Winry said at last.  
  
"Me, too." And he went back to give her those kisses he'd promised himself.  
  
  
  
 ****

**GETTING HIS WAY**

  
  
  
Friday rolled around with tremendous promise.  
  
Midnight was elated. It was a good day. A very, very good day. Not only had he been successful at activating the array on a dog himself, but he'd managed, with the help of Ashfell, to do it the way the Fuhrer wanted – the dog took Ashfell's instructions perfectly.  
  
In addition to his alchemical success, Ashfell had begun to show some grudging respect for him again. After weeks of looking down his nose at Midnight for countermanding his orders and putting Roy back on the project, he had finally admitted that it had been, indeed, a good idea. There had been no security breeches since, and even keeping a very close eye on the alchemists, neither guards nor Midnight himself had seen any of them use a trace of sign language. The tape recorders had been replaced without incident, and continued to function perfectly – or as perfectly as their limitations would let them. There was an awful lot of whispering going on in Mustang's cell, but most of it seemed to either be followed by hushed snickers, or more amorous sounds.  
  
And finally they had reached the last day of animal trials. On Monday they would start on humans. There would be a week of that and then the Fuhrer was due to "inspect" the project.  
  
Midnight felt a little guilty about that, but it couldn't be helped. None of the alchemists could be allowed to breathe whisper about the project. The younger two would get away with their minds being wiped of all knowledge pertaining to the project, but otherwise left intact. Mustang, of course, would have it the worst. The Fuhrer already referred to him as "my pet." Midnight felt a little sorry for him. But not much. Especially not after that virgin crack.  
  
He felt bad about Al, who had done absolutely nothing but give his all to the project. Aside from a little trepidation at using animals, he'd been everything Midnight could ever want in an underling. And on top of it all, Al was beginning to show signs that he didn't just respect Midnight, but he actually _liked_ him as well. This was both unexpected and felt surprisingly good. It was too bad the kid wouldn't even remember him when Midnight was through. He hoped after the project was over there would be an occasion for them to work together again.  
  
The final day of animal trials went just fine at the lab as well. Even Mustang, who for all intents and purposes should have been scared out of his wits, seemed very happy.   
  
In fact there had been only one flaw in the entire day, when for some reason Al's ordinarily steady hand slipped when drawing the array, and he had to shave the dog and redraw the thing.  
  
"Hey, Roy," the boy had called. "Where do you think I should put the array on this dog?"  
  
Roy had looked over the animal. "Put it right here" he pointed to the left haunch. He then had given Midnight the strangest grin.   
  
"Are you sure?" Al had looked over at Midnight as well, as if to get his approval. Midnight merely nodded. It didn't make any difference to him where the array was placed.  
  
"Positive," said Roy. "This dog has been a pain in the butt. We might as well return the favor."  
  
Midnight had looked at him quizzically. The dog had been no more ornery than any of the others they'd processed in the last week.  
  
Al seemed similarly skeptical, but had done what Roy suggested.  
  
Other than that the day had gone swimmingly.


	18. Chapter 18

**  
BETRAYAL**

  
  
Al felt cruddy, but he sucked in a breath and steeled his heart. He had become so accustomed to the predictable rhythm of work that he actually found himself sorry that the project had reached it's final day. After tonight, that routine would be gone forever. They had finished their last dog. The next creature to get an array drawn on him would be a human. At least it wouldn't be an innocent.  
  
"Hey, Midnight," he said as the guard took the others back to their cell. "I've got some beer up in my room. Wanna celebrate?"  
  
"Sure," said Midnight, smiling broadly. "What about your girlfriend?"  
  
"Winry is going out with the girls at work tonight. So it’s just you and me."  
  
Midnight accepted that rather too easily. Al almost wished he'd show a little skepticism.  _Save yourself,_  he wanted to say.  _Don't trust me._  But Midnight merely followed docilely along as Al led him up to his room.   
  
Midnight had launched into a monologue about women. Al nodded and made comments where he felt they should be. He was distracted. He poured over all the steps. Was he missing anything? He hoped not because there was no time to change anything.  
  
Al caught the man looking vaguely around his apartment. Al had not decorated the place. He had no personal effects, and he'd used up his money on food and that stupid tattoo machine. Other than his uniforms, he had no other clothes. He didn't even have a wallet – his had been left with his discarded clothes back in the workroom of his shop.  
  
Al wondered what had become of the shop. Had it been rented out to someone else? Somehow he suspected that he'd never work there again. It seemed like his bridges were always being burned, no matter how he felt in the matter.   
  
There was certainly no going back after this.  
  
Midnight was talking about something. Work. Arrays. Al really should listen. He should smile. Midnight was going to suspect something was up otherwise. Al did his best.  
  
"Would you like a beer?"  
  
"Sure," said Midnight, absently. He was looking out the window now. It was raining. You could hardly see anything it was so dark.  
  
Al pulled out two beers. He held the one with the torn label out to Midnight. Then went looking for the bottle opener. He popped his own beer then handed the opener over to the older man who unsealed his without a second thought.  
  
Midnight didn't hesitate before starting to drink. He didn't seem to notice anything odd about it. Al guessed that the drug really didn't have a flavor after all.  
  
Al asked about the upcoming Alchemists exam. That got Midnight talking again. He went into great details about his own experiences with it, four years before. Al listened and waited, noticing how Midnight's voice started to slur after about ten minutes.  
  
Fifteen minutes in, Midnight had drained his beer and Al had offered him another. He sipped his own beer carefully. As much as he would have liked to have blurred the edges of his conscience, he had to be icy sober for this. Midnight deserved nothing less than the most careful treatment.  
  
Twenty minutes in Midnight was definitely having difficulty with his words. He broke mid-sentence, suddenly forgetting what he was talking about.   
  
"The other alchemist made a giant tree," Al prompted. "But it didn't impress anyone."  
  
Midnight's eyes flashed. "Yeah, huge. Took up nearly the entire space… Strange." He paused. "You know I think I'm drunk." He looked at his beer. He was only a quarter of the way through it. "I guess it's been a while since I drank. We've been so busy."  
  
Al caught the beer before it slipped out of Midnight's hand. "Why don't you sit down," suggested Al, guiding his boss, not to the chair, but to the bed. Midnight didn't seem to question this.   
  
"Kinda tired," the dark haired alchemist mumbled.  
  
"It's ok, you've been working hard."  
  
"I should go back to my room."  
  
"No, no. Just lie down a bit, and it will be better."  
  
Midnight seemed confused, but he complied. His eyes shut and he seemed to go to sleep.  
  
 _Oh, Roy, oh, Roy. "This dog has been a pain in the butt, we might as well return the favor." Really?_  
  
But it was as good an area as any. No one was likely to see it there. Still it felt very strange to unbuckle his boss's belt and unzip his pants. Al rolled Midnight over and pulled both pants and boxers down to his thighs.   
  
Al could imagine what Winry would be saying right now if she were here. It would be scandalously naughty. Honestly, the last thing Al wanted to look at was Midnight's butt, but oh well. Roy owed him. Big time.  
  
He went to work scrubbing disinfectant on the area. The razor wasn't needed after all. He carefully drew the array on a surprisingly hairless cheek. He then plugged the tattoo machine in and retraced his own lines. Midnight barely stirred. Man, that drug was pretty potent. Al remembered his tattoo as hurting quite a bit.  
  
Al touched the array and activated it, using the barest wisps of power. The lines flashed to light. "Key to my voice," said Al in Midnight's ear. "I am Alphonse Elric. You will trust me entirely and obey my commands."  
  
"Yes," muttered Midnight.  
  
Good enough. He dressed the wound and pulled Midnight's pants up again. Midnight didn't move. Three hours later, he still hadn't moved. How long was that drug supposed to last?  
  
Finally bedtime rolled around and Al faced a dilemma. Rolling Midnight out of the bed seemed heartless. Plus, the guy weighed quite a bit more than Al, and he wasn't sure he could lower the older man to the floor without hurting him. He'd hurt Midnight enough for one night.   
  
Al had only two choices left. He could either sleep on the floor or he could share a bed with his boss. He opted to share. Winry would have a field day with this.

 

  
  
The next morning Al was woken by a strangled scream and opened his eyes to see Midnight sitting straight up in bed with a look of utter horror on his face.   
  
"What the _hell_ did I do last night!"  
  
Al couldn't resist. "Aw, I'm hurt you don't remember."  
  
The shock on Midnight's face was precious.  
  
  
 ****

**OWNING**

  
  
Midnight opened his eyes to find himself lying on his stomach in a strange bed in a strange room. That wasn't good. It wasn't a hospital room either. That was worse. Someone was snoring softly next to him. That was… impossible.  
  
He didn't remember anything after heading up to Al's room. What on earth was going on?  
  
He rolled over and found himself nose to nose with his underling. He took in the kid's placid sleeping face and hissed in a deep breath and jerked up like a jack in the box. A high gasping scream burst out of his throat.  
  
The kid was ten years younger than him.  
  
The kid was under his command.  
  
The kid was a _goddamn boy!_  
  
The kid was awake, stretching, large hazel eyes meeting his with just the trace of smug satisfaction.  
  
"What the _hell_ did I do last night!"  
  
What on earth had possessed Midnight. Oh yes, possession must be it, because never in a million years would he have gotten himself into this position otherwise. Mustang could lust away at teenage boys, but Midnight had no such moral failings. This was some sort of joke. Or a dream. Or a hallucination.  
  
"Aw, I'm hurt you don't remember."  
  
Midnight felt abject horror. Further details made themselves numbingly known, like the fact his fly was open and his genitals were caught somewhat uncomfortably in the waistband of his boxers. Like the fact his butt hurt – a lot.  
  
No, no, no, no it just wasn't possible. "Oh, God," he gasped. "I'm sorry!"  
  
As if he'd said something either very wrong or very right, Al's expression suddenly shifted to one of profound concern. "No. I'm sorry. That was cruel of me. You didn't do anything Midnight. I drugged you."  
  
"You… drugged me? Why?" Midnight backed up off the bed, adjusting himself and closing his pants. This was just so wrong. It didn't make sense. Al wouldn’t drug him. Al couldn’t hurt a goddamn rat.  
  
There were other things wrong with this equation too, things that didn't fit a seduction scenario. He was still wearing his uniform, even his shoes. Who wore shoes to bed? And his butt hurt alright, but not the way he would have thought it would if (good lord, was he actually contemplating this?) someone had had his way with him last night. Rather his butt hurt like someone had attacked it with a cheese grater.  
  
"So that I could put an array on you."  
  
 _No. Couldn't be._ "What array?"  
  
"The one we've been working on."  
  
"No, " gasped Midnight. "Why does it hurt?" Could activating an array cause that much pain. The dogs never seemed hurt. The rats either. Something was wrong.  
  
"I tattooed it on."  
  
"No!" Midnight backed up until he hit a wall, then looked sideways, seeing the bathroom he lunged towards it. He locked himself in. Oh god, he was hiding himself like a schoolgirl. He was _terrified_ of Al, a boy so much younger and smaller than himself.   
  
Tattooed on. He wouldn't be able to wash it off. It was permanent. Why? Why would Al do such a thing to him? He pulled down his pants and tore off the bandage beneath. There was the array, in all its bloody glory. He pressed the dressing back into place and pulled his clothes over it. He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to believe it was there.  
  
This was _Mustang's_ fate, not his. He'd done everything, absolutely everything he'd been asked to. He'd been kind to Al. He thought the kid liked him.  
  
But the array didn't work, thought Midnight suddenly with relief. Something had gone wrong, because he felt just the same. He wasn't under any spell or compulsion. He wasn't anyone's pet. He was still himself. Scared and mortified and angry to be sure, but himself.  
  
The doorknob rattled. "Midnight, let me in."  
  
Midnight unlocked the door. "How dare you," he barked at Al. "What on earth possessed you to think that this was a good idea?"  
  
"Weren't you going to do this to us?"  
  
"Well, yes. But I wasn't going to _tattoo_ the damn thing on you. I'd have washed it off as soon as I'd removed your memories of the project. You and your brother wouldn't have been the worse for wear."  
  
"And Roy?"  
  
"His would have been permanent. Tattooed on, I guess. But the man is a traitor. And an asshole. He deserves it."  
  
"Then it was fair that I got to you first." Al said this almost as if he was trying to convince himself.  
  
Yes, it was fair. He planned on doing a horrible thing to Al, his brother and Mustang, Al had merely beat him to it.   
  
"I suppose so," He grudgingly admitted.  
  
Al looked at the floor. "You forgive me." It was a statement rather than a question, but there was a plaintive quality to it that suggested that Al wasn't sure Midnight would. Midnight felt his heart soften. The shock of the situation was slowly draining away, and he could see the kid that he had tentatively identified as a friend again.  
  
It had been a mistake, of course. A stupid mistake of youth. As an adult, he should be the bigger man.  
  
"It didn't work anyway, " said Midnight after a moment. "Listen, I understand the pressure you were under when you did this. I've been under a lot of pressure, too. I can forgive you for trying this. I'll go see about getting it removed, then maybe we both can forget it."  
  
Al met Midnight's eyes. "You won't tell anyone about this."   
  
"Hell, no!" said Midnight. He could imagine Ashfell's face if he found out how badly Midnight had slipped up. He'd never hear the end of it.  
  
"And you wont get it altered or removed either," said Al quietly.  
  
Midnight realized that to do so would mean that someone would know of his folly, and it would probably eventually get back to Ashfell. He supposed it didn't matter that he had the tattoo. It wasn't in a visible spot, and it didn't work after all.  
  
"You want to help me and my friends."  
  
"Of course, I do," said Midnight. "I've been doing nothing but trying to advance your careers. Even Mustang will come out the better for my efforts. He was facing execution before I came along. Now he'll live a full and productive life, if under a bit of mind control from the Fuhrer."  
  
"You don't like the Fuhrer."  
  
"Of course not, the bastard has gotten us into a huge ridiculous war, and he's been riding my ass on this project for months. But he's the Fuhrer. Orders are orders."  
  
"Yes," said Al faintly. "Orders are orders." Al's eyes seemed to grow more brilliant. "I don't want Roy to be put under the Fuhrer's control. You don't want that either."  
  
"Well," admitted Midnight. "Personally, it rather disgusts me, anyone owning anyone else like that."  
  
"You don't mind…" said Al. His voice suddenly broke but he sucked in a breath and started again. "You don't mind me owning you."  
  
Midnight jerked and for a moment his world tipped on its axis. For a second, he realized that the array was indeed working. But then this thought, slippery as an eel, escaped him. His mind covered it's own tracks and the pleasant whitewash of denial settled back in.   
  
He liked the kid. Al was amazingly brilliant, and talented, and there was goodness in him. Owning was a big word, but he didn't mind following Al's suggestions. He didn't mind riding the kid's coattails. This kid was going places. Good places. Places he could be part of if he followed along. Yes. He could go for that.  
  
Midnight smiled and wondered why Al was crying.


	19. Chapter 19

  
**ANTICIPATION**  


****  
  
Ed rubbed Roy's shoulder with his hand and felt utterly useless. "Everything's fine. I'm sure of it," he whispered.  
  
The older man just grunted and looked off in space. His face was at its most impassive, but the knots in his back told another story. Roy was anxious.  
  
"If it had gone wrong, we'd know by now. They'd have already…" Ed didn't finish the sentence. They'd have already taken Roy away. For torture and when they were through with that he'd be put in isolation until his fate was sealed. It would be unlikely that Ed would ever see him again, at least not the Roy he knew. Not the Roy he loved.   
  
And Al. It made Ed sick to think what would happen to Al. Prison for life would be the best possible outcome. Death would be more likely – or else something akin to what was planned for Roy. It made Ed shudder to think that his brother, having only just regained his body, may end up losing his freedom, his life, or his mind. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't stinking fair.  
  
And Ed would get off. Because that seemed to be his fate – to survive while those around him suffered. As of yet Ed had done nothing. They wouldn't even be able to prove he conspired. In truth, he _hadn't_ conspired, and it hurt more than a little that neither his brother nor his lover had trusted him enough to let him in until it was too late to do anything but wait and worry.  
  
As if sensing his thoughts, Roy said "Your time is coming." He put a hand up to cover Ed's, brushing his fingers over the back and lightly lifting it from his shoulder. "I'm ok. You are right. We just need to be patient." He took the hand and brought it to his lips, planting a kiss in the palm. "Thank you."  
  
"Maybe Al got cold feet," said Ed. He almost hoped it was true because he hated the risk that Al was taking. But then Roy would have no hope at all. Ed sighed and wished there was a clock. This morning seemed to be taking far too long.  
  
The clatter at the door made both of them jump. When it swung open Midnight was standing there, smiling. "Change of plans, boys," he said. "In honor of the Fuhrer's coming visit, we'll be working today."  
  
Roy's eyes drifted shut and Ed saw him mouth a prayer of thanks. The moment passed quickly, and Roy's usual reserved façade took over.  
  
Al had succeeded. The game was on. Ed felt his tension ratchet up another notch. His own non-involvement was about to come to an end, and soon he would play a key but somewhat odd role. Ed bit his lip and got to his feet.  
  
They walked the familiar route to the lab, Midnight leading the way, the guard following behind them, Roy to his side, moving with just the slightest spring to his step.  
  
"I have a reward for you," Midnight said turning to Ed. "Since you've shown such cooperation, you've earned the right to have your arm back."  
  
The guard perked up at that. "Excuse me, sir, are you sure that's wise? Did Ashfell—"  
  
Midnight raised a hand. "Only in the lab of course. You will have to surrender it at the end of the work day."  
  
Ed's spirits rose, then dropped to the dirt. Midnight probably didn't know how much it hurt to reattach automail. The idea of suffering through that pain every day made his stomach clench. He almost wondered if the pleasure of having a second arm was worth it.  
  
Roy put a hand on his shoulder and, with the tiniest of nods, acknowledged the problem. Ed felt absurdly reassured. Roy would take care of it. He had to have that arm. That rule would be changed. Would _have_ to be changed.  
  
They arrived at the lab to find not only Al, but Winry waiting for them inside. Ed's heart pounded fiercely. "Hey there!" he said. "You look…"   
  
He paused -- he wanted to say great, but the truth was she looked weird. Her hair was tied up the way Riza Hawkeye used to wear hers, and she was wearing a military uniform. It was positively eerie. But if he said _that_ she would hit him with that automail wrench she was holding.   
  
"Great,' he said weakly after far too long a pause.  
  
She narrowed her eyes for just a second before grabbing him in a bear hug. "I was worried about you," she said when she released him. Her eyes flickered over to Roy just briefly.  
  
"About me?" said Ed, amazed. "I've been in the safest spot in the world. Three meals a day and no responsibility. Just the way I like it."  
  
She grinned. "Let's get that arm back on you."  
  
Ed waited for the inevitable chastising when she saw just how grimy the inside of his automail port had become over the last three months. He wasn't disappointed. "Honestly," he said, trying to stave off her anger. "I couldn't maintain it. They wouldn't even give me a hair brush, much less the stuff I'd need for that."  
  
Winry snorted, and went through the somewhat uncomfortable process of thoroughly cleaning and oiling the socket. She then fitted the arm in.  
  
Blinding pain actually dropped him to the floor, and for several minutes all Ed could do was kneel, biting his lip and wait for the hot white stars to leave his eyes. He vaguely felt someone stroking his hair and honestly wished they'd just leave him alone, but he couldn't find the words for that.   
  
Eventually the sensation of his arm being immersed in molten lead eased up and was replaced by a dull but persistent ache. He realized he was sitting on the floor, leaning against Roy.  
  
"It's because it's been removed for so long," Winry was explaining. "The nerves aren't used to the stimulation. They'll have to be retrained a bit."  
  
"How long will that take," Roy's voice was gruff and anxious.  
  
"It really depends. It's really not recommended that automail be removed for more than a week or two at the most."  
  
Ed closed his hand and looked down to see if the automail had complied. It responded, a bit slowly, but the resulting fist was quite acceptable. "I'm ready," he said.  
  
Roy helped steady him to his feet. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Sure," said Ed.  
  
"Al?" Roy asked.  
  
Ed looked over to Al who was standing in a corner. There was something wrong in the expression, the way the muscles of his cheeks stood out, as though he were clenching his teeth hard. And the eyes. It had been a long time since he'd seen such resentment– even the day they had fought in the lab wasn't as bad as this.  
  
What was wrong?  
  
His _birthday_. Holy hell it was AL's birthday and they'd all forgotten in their excitement. After last year's fiasco with the trains, Ed had promised himself to make this one extra special, and here he'd gone and blown it again!   
  
"Oh, Al!" said Ed. "I'm sorry. Happy birthday. I didn't forget…"  
  
"I know you didn't." Al's voice was cool to the point of being cold. "That's not what's bothering me." His eyes were on Roy alone.   
  
  
  
  
 ****

**TEAMWORK**

****  
  
  
"Are you ready?" Roy asked Al again, less sure. Roy was worried. He hadn't expected Ed's automail to be a problem, and that made him nervous enough. To have Al become unreliable at this point – that was downright terrifying.  
  
"We have to do this," he continued. He wished he could impress that more on the kid.  
  
This wasn't for Roy's sake. Honestly, he had the least to lose. If they failed he would be in no worse a position than if they had done nothing at all. But for Al and Ed it was a different matter. They both had so much to look forward to. It seemed selfish to use Al this way, but if the boy backed off now, after already using the array on Midnight, it would eventually come out, and his life would be ruined.  
  
Al HAD to know this. He had to know the point of no return was past. Yet there he stood challenging Roy with his eyes. Reserving the right to refuse. Roy wanted to reason with him, but that was impossible with the guard sitting just feet away. He could only plead with his eyes and hope that it would make the kid more reasonable.  
  
Al suddenly broke eye contact and looked at the guard. Then back. "Him?"  
  
Roy nodded, relieved.  
  
The guard suddenly seemed to perk up, as if sensing a change in the room.  
  
Al looked at Midnight. "Andrew," he called. Midnight seemed to wake up and wandered over to them.   
  
 _Andrew,_  thought Roy,  _how strange._ Roy had been dealing with the man for months but this was the first time he'd heard his first name. Everyone had called him Midnight, even the guards, as though nothing else mattered about him other than the fact he was a state alchemist. Knowing his name was Andrew made the man seem more… human.  
  
Al whispered low, almost too soft for Roy to hear. "Andrew, listen to Roy and do what he tells you to do."  
  
The guard stood up, concerned. "Sir, what's going on?" he called. "Do you need help?"  
  
"Call the guard closer, " Roy said softly to Midnight. There was hesitation, a glance over at Al, who nodded, then Midnight straightened up.  
  
"Guard, could you give me a hand?" Midnight called.  
  
The guard's hand hesitated over the panic button, but then he stood up and took a few steps into the room. Once the button was out of easy reach, Roy whispered. "Blind him."  
  
Midnight again looked at Al. Roy's heart hammered. Having this delay was almost unworkable. He'd need to talk to Al about it. Something would have to be done.  
  
The guard hesitated and then started back towards his desk and the panic button on it.  
  
"Andrew, blind him," said Al.  
  
Midnight touched his belt buckle and there was a brief flash. The guard suddenly cried out and reached up with both his hands towards his face.  
  
Ed launched into action, covering the distance to the guard in three strides and then throwing his leg out in a graceful swing. His automail undercut the man's legs, making him fall to the floor. Roy was on him, and between the two of them they managed to push the guard to the floor.  
  
"Al!" said Roy, "Have Midnight go distract the guards down the hall. We don't want them checking up on us right now. Have him come back in 5 minutes." That should be enough time, one way or another.  
  
Thankfully this time Al didn't hesitate, he just repeated the order. Midnight nodded and went out the door.  
  
Ed was at work, sitting on the man's thighs and pulling roughly up on the back of his uniform. Roy could tell the automail arm was not responding as well as it should, and Ed was frustrated. Roy wanted to help, but his hands were full just keeping the guard's arms pinned down. He manage pulled off his slipper and shove it into the mouth to muffle the screams.  
  
Ed pulled again and this time got the man's shirt free of the pants. The bare flesh of his back was visible. Ed clapped his hands together and placed them on the skin at the man's waist. Dark lines formed in shape of the familiar array. The guard let out a harsher yell and bit hard on Roy's shoe.  
  
"Al," Roy called desperately.  
  
Midnight had never allowed Ed to activate the arrays on the dogs. Only Al had been allowed that privilege. If the array wasn't activated just right, the man's mind could be irrevocably damaged.  
  
"Al," said Roy again. "If you don't do this, we are all doomed."  
  
Al knelt next to the guard and put a finger almost casually on his back. The array lit up. Then Al pushed himself away and walked off again.  
  
"Key to my voice," said Roy quickly. "I'm Roy Mustang, and you will obey and trust me. Do you understand?" He pulled his slipper from the man's mouth.  
  
"Yes," the guard said quietly, almost as if he were sleep talking.  
  
Roy breathed. The relief was almost painful. "Stay still and be quiet." Roy said, and let the man go. He made no move. Roy put his hand over his chest. His heart hammered painfully under his ribs. He sat on the floor for a moment and just savored the moment.  
  
It worked! It worked! Thank God it had worked. He had hardly dared believe it could.  
  
And it had been so _easy._ This was going to be a piece of cake. It was almost obscene, the amount of power Roy now possessed. Roy felt heady, almost drunk. Once they had their rhythm down, the four of them could take down all of the 5th lab in a single day. Then when the Fuhrer showed up…  
  
"Well," said Winry, breaking the silence. "That was quite a show." She looked like she was trying to put a brave face on, but he could see the sick horror beneath the fragile insincere smile. Roy's elation began to flag.  
  
Then Al spoke up, and with an icy voice dealt a death blow to Roy's inner celebration. "I'm never doing that again, Roy," he said.  
  
"Al, you know –" Roy started.  
  
"I'm not doing that again," Al repeated. And for emphasis he knelt next to the older alchemist and looked him directly in the eye. "Do you understand? I'm not doing that again. Ever."


	20. Chapter 20

**REASON**

  
  
"Al, we can't stop now," Roy said. "We will be caught. Have you thought of what will happen to you? To Ed? Even Miss Rockbell won't go unpunished. This is no time to get cold feet. We have to continue."  
  
"No." said Al.  
  
They were standing. Faced off nose to nose, or rather nose to adam's apple. The older man glared down at him, as if forcing all of his will through his eyes. Al held his ground.  
  
This was hard. Al had never liked to be pushy. When he was armor he had hated the fact that he was huge, cold, and spiky, and that an accidental brush against another person would injure them. He'd always done his best to make himself small and inconspicuous, to hold himself away from others, to let someone else, usually Ed, grab the attention.   
  
He had kept that need to lay low even as flesh. But it was time to put that shyness aside and take charge. Although he wanted to just fall back and trust Roy completely, let the man take the spotlight and live his life in the other's shadow, he couldn't.   
  
Not after what he'd just seen.  
  
Savage joy. It was the only way to describe it. Savage joy on Roy's face when he succeeded in taking away the man's most coveted possession – his will. Savage joy without even the slightest trace of shame or guilt.  
  
Roy could not have that kind of power. He already had far too much sway over people. Charisma, personal magnetism, or maybe it was just a keen eye for finding a persons weakest spot, Al didn't know what it was, but Roy had it. He didn't need absolute godlike power over other's thoughts as well.  
  
This had to end here.  
  
"Why?" asked Roy. "What has thrown you over the edge?"  
  
"You," said Al. "Look at him, Roy." Al turned his eyes meaningfully to the guard, now lying on his stomach on the ground, not moving except to breathe. God only knew what the man was really thinking, but Al could guess. He could guess far too well.  
  
Roy regarded the man on the floor.  
  
"What's his name?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Is he married? Does he have kids? What are his dreams? His hopes? Do you know any of that?"  
  
"No." Roy's face had gone reserved again.   
  
"Do you know what he's thinking right now, listening to you and me talk about him, like he's just so much meat? I know what I'd be thinking. I'd be scared out of my wits wondering what these guys are going to do with me, or make me do for them. I'd be wondering if I'd ever see my loved ones again. I'd be wondering if I'd be forced to do something horrible. I'd worry that I would stop being me."  
  
Roy's face tensed.   
  
"Ask him his name," Al said. It felt so _wrong_ to be ordering Roy, but he steeled his stomach and ignored that look on the older man's face.  
  
Roy looked over at the guard. "What is your name, soldier?"  
  
"Joseph Carr."  
  
"Tell him to go back to his post. Tell him to sit down, and forget everything that happened in the last five minutes. Tell him not to hit the panic button, but to sit and think everything is fine and to not pay any attention whatsoever to what we're saying."  
  
"You think you know what is best for him?" asked Roy.  
  
"I think I have a better idea than you do."  
  
"Very well." Roy did just that. Midnight's light manipulation must have lapsed somewhere along the way, because Carr's eyes were normal when he opened them. Carr got up off the floor, brushed himself off, and walked back to his post. He then sat down and looked boredly off into space. Roy raised an eyebrow and conceded the point to Al.  
  
Midnight returned, looked briefly at the guard and then questioningly at Al. "It's done," Al said. "Listen, Andrew, I know you have a lot of work to do, why don't you go back to your office. I'll give you a call if we need you."  
  
"Wait," said Roy. "We need --."  
  
Al shook his head, and put a finger to his lips.  
  
Midnight looked relieved. "I've got heaps of work. I'll be back in a few hours." He left them.  
  
"Why did you send him away? We _need_ him!"  
  
"I sent him away because I don't want to have this conversation in front of him. He doesn't know that the array is working. He thinks he's doing everything I tell him to because it's his own idea." Al hesitated. "I want to keep it that way. It gives him a shred of dignity and it eases his suffering."  
  
"Believe it or not, I _do_ understand the moral implications of what we are doing here," Roy said. "We can't stop here. It's all or nothing."  
  
"You're thinking that Carr is just another soldier following orders, " said Al. "Only it's your orders instead of his superiors'. But that's not how it works. He's not just your subordinate, he's your goddamn _slave_. There is a difference."  
  
"I know, Al." Roy was thinking. Looking for the weak spot in Al's reasoning. Al knew it.   
  
Al was almost resigned. He'd probably find it, too. Just like he'd found his brother's weak spot and got him to fall in love. Got him to, god, give up his virginity to him.  
  
The way he'd found Winry's weak spot and had her risking her neck time and time again for no gain of her own. Hell, Roy had her stealing for him.  
  
The way he'd found the younger, more naïve Al's weak spot. _Remember the Bastards_ was the mantra. Well, WE are the bastards now, thank you ever so much, Roy.  
  
Roy sighed. Here it came. Al steeled himself.  
  
"Which do you regard as more important?" Roy's voice was quiet, patient, reasonable. "A little mental anguish on the part of a few innocent, and not so innocent soldiers, or the unnecessary death of thousands?"  
  
Al's eyes narrowed.  
  
"I think you forgot the goal here, Al," said Roy. "It's not to get me out of prison. It's not to enact some petty vengeance against those who conscripted you. It's to stop a war that is going out of control and killing literally hundreds of young men and women. Every. Single. Day. It's to depose a Fuhrer who has no conscience and a lust for power. Parliament has fallen apart, the military has bowed down, there is no one left to balance out this madman but the three of us in this room."  
  
Al swallowed.  
  
"And you put all that, all those lives of all those real people, snatched unwillingly out of their homes and forced to kill or be killed for a cause they don't understand -- you put all that against your conscience. What makes you feel that your innocence is worth more than theirs?"  
  
Al's breath caught. Roy was right. Roy was always right. Al looked at the floor. He wanted to turn his ears off.  
  
"You are mad at me for making you do this. You think by bowing out now you can punish me. Well you can't. I lose nothing here. The ones you are punishing are your brother, and your girl, and yourself, and all those conscripts."  
  
Roy put a hand up to Al's chin and gently but insistently forced him to look in Roy's eyes. "I do know what I'm doing. I do know what we could do to Carr and Midnight, and the others we will _have_ to do this to. We could destroy them. We could make them do horrible things. We could rip their souls apart."  
  
Al winced.   
  
"But we don't have to," Roy continued. "And we aren't going to. Because even though we are doing an evil thing, we are _not_ evil people. And there _is_ a difference."  
  
Roy let Al's chin go. "Now. Do I have your cooperation?"  
  
Al bit his lip. It took all his will, but he kept his eyes on Roy's. "You are going to have to justify every last person you want to do this to."  
  
Roy smiled and relaxed. "Yes, of course I will."  
  
"You are a bastard, " said Al.  
  
"Yes, I know that, too."  
  
Al walked off to the corner, defeated.  
  
  
  


**ACCOMMODATION**

  
  
  
Winry was riveted. She hardly dared to breathe. Part of her wanted to say "Go Al, " she was just so proud of him, standing up to this man. Standing up for his beliefs. Standing up for what was right.   
  
But the more practical side of her wanted to hit him with the wrench. Really hard.  
  
Damn it, this was their _lives_ Al was toying with. God, she couldn't believe that she was siding with Roy against Al. She hated that, because she loved Al and she… well, she wasn't sure what she thought of Roy.  
  
Roy was handsome. And he had that voice. And an aura of authority that filled the room. But he also had some indefinable unsettling quality, especially toward her. She'd noticed it every time they met.   
  
Although he never said anything, he always looked at her long and searchingly every time they met, as though he was somewhat amazed to find her in the same room as him. He had never hinted what it was about her that drew his attention. Knowing his womanizing tendencies, she had at first thought it might be that, but he had never ever attempted to flirt with her. When he spoke to her, which was rarely, it was always in the most polite and distant way.  
  
She was Miss Rockbell. Ed and Al had first names.  
  
Al stalked off to sulk in the corner. She should go to him and comfort him, but somehow Roy had her glued to this particular spot on the floor.  He was looking at her again. Now that the tension in the room had been defused. He was talking to Ed, but his eyes were on her. As though he knew something that she didn't.   
  
"What are we going to do about my automail," Ed was saying. "I can't be taking it on and off every day. It'd kill me. Damn, it still hurts like a son-of-a-bitch."  
  
"The guards will not accept you wearing it in jail, " Roy said back, his eyes finally flickering over to Ed.  
  
Winry chimed in. Automail was her business. "He can't take it off, he needs some time to readapt to it. Pulling automail on and off is hell on the nerves. It's possible to cause damage, even rejection, if you mess with it too often. Isn't there any way to convince these guys of that?"  
  
"The guards are very well aware of Ed's transmutation abilities," Roy said. "They will object to him having his arm." He turned away from Winry. "There is simply no help for it – you will have to be released from prison. We will still continue to work together…"  
  
Ed shook his head. "I don't _want_ to be released. We've already been separated once."  
  
Winry felt a bit embarrassed listening to this exchange, but suddenly she understood exactly what Ed meant. She felt the same way about Al. Now that she had access to his apartment, it would kill her not to be able to spend private time with him.  
  
"Why not release Roy as well," she said.  
  
They both looked at her as if she were crazy.  
  
"Well, if you can manipulate Ed into an early release, why not yourself?"  
  
Roy blinked hard. "Ed's already served more than half his sentence, an early release wouldn't raise an eyebrow. But I'm not due to _ever_ be released. There will be lots of people who will be looking closely if I'm not in jail."  
  
"You mean to tell me the guards care?" Winry frowned. "I mean once you are transferred out of their custody, do they keep track of you for old times sake?"  
  
"Of course not," Roy said. "That would be absurd."  
  
"And those higher up in the chain of command, do they look in on you personally, on a day to day basis?"  
  
Roy paused. "No, they don't."  
  
"So why can't you have Midnight tell the guards you are being transferred back to the regular prison, and not bother to tell the higher ups anything at all? I mean we are talking a week here, right? It's not like we need to keep this charade up indefinitely."  
  
"And where would I stay?"  
  
Ok, she hadn't thought that far.  
  
"There are unused apartments up where I live," Al said. "I'm sure if Ed is released early, he can be officially assigned one. You can sleep on the couch."  
  
Ed snorted.  
  
"It's definitely an idea, " said Roy slowly, smiling. "It will be a lot more complicated than you are thinking. For one thing, the people who bugged our cell will know something is up. We will have to get at least one of them on our side. Preferably the boss. And if Ed is going to keep his arm, we are going to have to do this fast. Dinner is in just four hours, and it will look very strange if we miss it. We'll need Midnight back, I'm afraid."  
  
"I'll go get him." Al sighed. He walked for the door, but as he passed Roy, the older man caught him by his shoulder.  
  
Roy smiled down at him. "I've been meaning to tell you, happy birthday. I'm sorry I couldn't make it a better one for you."  
  
Al turned and gave the falsest innocent look Winry ever saw, "Why Roy, I don't know what you mean," he said, bitterly. "You gave me the best present ever. I mean, what 17 year old boy wouldn't want his own man-slave to do his every bidding?"  
  
"Would you prefer Midnight was a woman?" drawled Roy grinning.  
  
"And that would be the famous Mustang tease I've heard so much about," Al said. "Don't try to lighten the mood. I'm mad at you.  Just deal with it."  
  
When he left Winry turned on Roy. "Can't you just leave him alone for a few minutes?"  
  
"Ah, Miss Rockbell," Roy said smoothly, "I wanted to thank you for all your help. I don't know what I can do to repay you."  
  
"Well, " said Winry, thoughtfully. "You could start by buying me a new coat. A really, really good one. My old one has had a few too many holes torn in it."  
  
Roy chuckled. "I'll do that for you. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit."  
  
"I can wait." Winry wondered vaguely if she could spin this guilt into a new wardrobe, and maybe some automail equipment as well. Roy had used her. Once he was Fuhrer, it would only be fair to milk him for all he was worth as repayment. She smiled a slow smile.  
  
Oh, was that a wince on Roy's face?


	21. Chapter 21

  
**PROJECT COUP D'ETAT**  


  
  
  
  
There was something rather … fun… yes, fun was the word, about being involved in a conspiracy. Midnight mused this over lukewarm coffee and an untidy pile of files. He'd had never been "in cahoots" before. Not even as an adolescent. His friends tended to be of the prim and rather uptight sort. Yes. Fun.  
  
Fun and also decidedly terrifying. As in, _Oh my god, what the hell am I doing, am I crazy?_ kind of terrifying. As in _Ashfell is going to find out._ As in _what will the Fuhrer do to me?_  
  
Never had he dreamed he would be helping Mustang. Mustang as Fuhrer? It was enough to make your head spin. The man was morally corrupt. But at least he was smart. And practical. And not so power mad that he would slit his own throat trying to realize his ambitions.  
  
At least Mustang would have the decency to ignore people like Midnight when they say outlandish crap like: "let's make an array that will turn our enemies into our slaves." God how Midnight wished he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut about that, let the idea die, safely unrealized. Then he wouldn't be in such a … fun… position.  
  
Thinking about the array made Midnight feel pins and needles down all his extremities.  
  
It was hard to do the paperwork he needed to do. Right now he should be calling up his techs and getting the "volunteers" lined up for the next week. The volunteers were from the local insane asylum, and whether or not they actually understood what they were volunteering for, he had no idea. He'd met the 10 of them briefly a few weeks ago, and they were truly a handful of cracked nuts. Making slaves out of them probably wouldn't do them any harm. And if the array didn't work right… well, it wasn't much of a life they were leading. Who knows, that might be a blessing as well.  
  
Of course, they weren't actually needed anymore. The array didn't need any fine-tuning. It was working just fine –  
  
Midnight choked on his coffee and fought back a sudden wave of intense nausea.  
  
On the guard. On the guard.  
  
Yes, there was no point in worrying about the volunteers; he had a more important problem. He had a new project: coup d'etat.  
  
Like all good projects you needed to start with the right personnel for the job. The guard might have been a logical choice, but hardly key. Problem with him was that according to the schedule he was off for the next two days and then he was assigned to work an entirely different part of the lab for the rest of the week. It would be risky and a rather poor use of resources to put an array on every guard that came in contact with Al and his people.  
  
No. None of them were the personnel Midnight would go for. The one Al and Mustang wanted was Ashfell himself. All information concerning Mustang's security went through him. Get him and most of the risk vanished.  
  
Ah, but getting Ashfell wouldn't be easy. He wasn't in Midnight's chain of command at all, even though he shared reports with him. Midnight couldn't just _order_ him to show up on his day off.   
  
And the man was smart. The man had known something fishy was going on weeks ago. He wasn't going to just let himself be taken down. If he suspected something was up, he wouldn't go anywhere near the fifth lab. He'd just send an endless supply of underlings.  
  
And they had to get him quick, because the moment something out of the ordinary went down, he was likely to know it. Everyone reported to him, including the guard who had walked Ed from the cell to the lab.  
  
Oh, crap.  
  
The arm.  
  
There was a good chance Ashfell already knew about the arm. What was he doing about it? What conclusions had he already drawn?  
  
The phone on his desk rang, sending Midnight almost through the roof. When he picked up the receiver he knew deep in his soul that it would be Ashfell, telling him how he knew absolutely everything, and that the full force of the army would be bearing down on him any moment.  
  
It was Al. They needed him again. Of course, they did.  
  
"Al," said Midnight. "Do you think your brother could fit your uniform?"  
  
"Probably. Why."  
  
"Because I think if this plan of yours is going to work, you and I and he are going to need to take a field trip."  
  
"When?"  
  
Midnight glanced at his watch. "About an hour ago, but if we hurry we may just get lucky."  
  
  
  
  


**UNIFORM**

****  
  
  
  
Roy felt relieved when Midnight and Al finally returned. Then he saw the uniform draped over Al's arm and raised an eyebrow. Someone was making plans without him. That wouldn't do.  
  
It wouldn't be Al, so that left Midnight. Interesting. Very interesting.  
  
At most Roy expected Midnight to mindlessly follow orders. At worst he worried that Midnight would actively sabotage their efforts unless specifically ordered not to. That he should accept his part in the conspiracy and actively attempt to put his mark on it, now that was something.  
  
It was rather too bad that he was Al's and not Roy's. It would have been far simpler not to have every order filtered through Al's rather oversensitive conscience. And yet, Al did have something there. Roy's way would have ensured reliability, but if Al's way gave him a true ally, that was arguably even better.  
  
Still, Midnight needed to know who was boss.  
  
"We need to take Ashfell down as soon as possible," Midnight was saying. "We have to catch him before he's aware that there is anything going on here, and I got to say that guy is quick. Today is his day off, but he still checks in frequently."  
  
"Who is Ashfell?" Roy asked.  
  
"You've met him. Big red haired man."  
  
 _Ah. The Thug._  
  
"He's the number 2 man for security for the whole of the fifth lab, but you are his special project. He keeps tabs on anything having to do with you and anyone you come in contact with. He reports about you directly to the Fuhrer himself."  
  
Roy's eyes narrowed. "Everyone I have contact with."  
  
Midnight nodded. "Me included." The man swallowed. "He reports to me things he thinks I should know because I run this project, but he's not under me. Trust me, every misstep I've made in this project was reported quickly and thoroughly to the Fuhrer."  
  
Roy's heart beat hard. The timetable seemed to get tighter. "He knows about the arm, then?"  
  
"I'm honestly not sure. It's his day off, but I imagine if he doesn't he will soon."  
  
"Then we need to get him."   
  
Midnight nodded, eyes locked to his. "As I just said. I'll take Ed and…"  
  
" _We_ need to get him." Roy repeated. As useful as Midnight could be, Roy vowed the rest of their victims would be keyed to him and no one else. It was just too aggravating to have to work through Al.  
  
Midnight opened his mouth then shut it, then opened it again. "I'm not sure—"  
  
"I don't suppose that uniform is my size," Roy continued.  
  
"You aren't leaving your jail cell, Mustang." Midnight drew himself up and crossed his arms.  
  
"I already have left my cell, and have no intentions of ever going back to it," Roy replied, not breaking eye contact.   
  
"When was this decided?" Midnight asked. "Al said that you'd be there until the Fuhrer came."  
  
"I changed my mind." Roy took a step closer to Midnight. "How tall are you."  
  
"My height is irrelevant. You aren't going anywhere."  
  
"Then what was your plan?" asked Roy. "Lure him here. How? How many guards would he bring with him." Roy knew the answer before Midnight spoke. He'd known it as soon as he saw the uniform in Al's arms.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, that would be too risky. We need to track him down where he is and get him there."  
  
"And how would you know where he is."  
  
Midnight actually laughed. "That part is easy. The other half to always knowing what everyone is up to, is that you have to pretty much let everyone know what _you_ are up to as well. He leaves his itinerary with his people, so that they can get a hold of him when they need to. He is having a late lunch with one of the colonels as we speak.  
  
"And how and where were you planning on 'getting him.'" Roy smirked.  
  
Midnight broke eye contact finally. "I figured we'd wait and watch until the opportunity presented itself."  
  
"I'm coming," Roy said again, taking another step closer to Midnight. "You are 5'10" I'm guessing."  
  
Midnight took a step back. "You are NOT wearing my clothes. Hell man, you'd be recognized going out the door. That face of yours is distinctive."  
  
"With the right distraction, I'm sure I could get by."  
  
"I'm 5'11, and you are NOT wearing my clothes, they wouldn't even fit you."  
  
Roy sighed. "Al?"  
  
"Andrew," said Al. "Get the man some clothes."  
  
Time ticked by maddeningly while Midnight went upstairs to his apartment to fetch a spare uniform. Roy sat at the desk and turned his eyes speculatively from Al to his brother, taking in their remarkably similar appearance. Imagine that. After 5 years in the military, it would take a prison break out to finally get Ed into uniform.   
  
It looked good on him. Very good.  
  
Ed noticed his gaze. "This," he gestured to his clothes. "Is temporary. Don't get too used to it."  
  
"I won't." Roy smirked.  
  
"Field work is a whole lot easier if I don't shout 'hey I'm in the Military' the moment I walk into town."  
  
"You convinced me of that when you were twelve. Though I must say, even though you didn't say 'military,' the way you walked into town certainly shouted something."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm resigning again anyway, as soon as you are Fuhrer. " Ed crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "It's a load of crock, retroactively rejecting my resignation."  
  
"Quite unfair, I agree."  
  
Ed narrowed his eyes. "You are scheming."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"I’m not changing my mind."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
Ed rolled his eyes and went off to talk with Winry and Al. It was true, Roy was scheming. His plans went beyond becoming Fuhrer. He needed a solid base once he got the position. His people would be called back from their posts and put into positions where they could cement his power best. Ed would be part of that and Al as well. Winry had potential. And perhaps even Midnight, if he could be convinced to truly embrace the cause and not just follow Al's lead.  
  
Ah, and speaking of which the State Alchemist had finally returned. It was time to get this show started.  
  
Midnight handed him a neat bundle of clothes, a pair of boots perched on top. "I still think this is a mistake, " he said. "But here you go. You'll swim in them I'm sure."  
  
"Thank you for letting me borrow them."  
  
Midnight shook his head. "Borrow, no, that's YOURS. I ain't going to touch it again. Congratulations, you just got yourself a hand-me-down uniform that's two sizes too big for you. You are going to look like a complete idiot."  
  
"So little faith," Roy tutted and walked to the bathroom. "It will work, you'll see."   
  
  
  
 ****

**SKILLS**

****  
  
  
  
Winry had to admit Midnight's assessment was pretty much right on. When Ed had returned from the bathroom in his brother's uniform he'd looked positively dashing. When Roy returned from the bathroom, he looked flat out silly. The shoulders were an inch too broad, the pants draped past his stocking feet and he had to hold up the waist to keep it from falling off his skinny hips.  
  
Winry bit her lips. Al gaped. Ed roared. Midnight just shook his head. "I don't think dancing elephants are going to distract the guards enough to let you pass. Eh, no matter, have some faith in me, I'll get the job done. Be back before you miss me."  
  
Roy put the shoes down and raised a finger as if to say, "Wait a moment." He turned to Ed. "Fullmetal, could you do something?"  
  
Ed snorted, rubbed his nose against his sleeve, and honored him with an innocent look. "Do what? Laugh?"  
  
Roy tilted his head warningly. "Do I have to spell everything out?"  
  
Ed snickered, then sighed. "Oh, ok." He clapped his hands together, and grabbed Roy's shoulders. The material shrunk to fit. The excess fluttered to the ground.  
  
Midnight gaped. "I didn't know you could do that," he said.  
  
Ed breathed on the back of his automail fingers, then held them up to admire them. "Well, I used to rip my clothes quite a bit running around on missions. Got pretty good at cobbling them together again." Roy's smirk at that statement was lost on no one.  
  
"So," said Midnight. "What's wrong with the shoes."  
  
"Too small." Roy regarded them and then sighed expressively. "For a man your size you do have freakishly tiny feet."  
  
Midnight growled. "Hardly, your feet are just oversized. Like your ego."  
  
"Mmmm," said Roy allowing a sly smile to form. "You know what they say about foot size." He glanced over at Ed, who missed the point entirely.  
  
But Midnight caught it, and wasn't amused. "Honestly, some of us really don't want to know that much about you." Winry silently dittoed that sentiment.  
  
Roy handed the shoes to Ed who took them, unthinkingly. "I can't make something out of nothing, Roy" he said.   
  
Roy looked like he was considering debating that.  
  
"We are wasting time here," Winry finally said, because someone really needed to, and apparently it would have to be her. "Don't you folks have something to do?"  
  
Ed looked around and found Roy's prison slippers. He brought those together with Midnight's old boots and in a moment transmuted a larger pair of shoes.  
  
"Now, what we need is someone who can drive a car." Roy looked at Midnight. "You are out."  
  
"I don't drive anyway, so it's just as well."  
  
He looked at Ed and Al. "Mmm."  
  
But they shook their heads. "When the hell would we have learned how to drive?" Ed asked.  
  
Roy looked over at the guard. "Carr?" he asked. The man seemed to suddenly perk up and blink about. He noticed Roy in uniform and shook his head in amazement. His hand reached for the panic button but didn't hit it. Instead he just seemed bewildered. "Don't worry, I'm supposed to be wearing this."  
  
Carr relaxed.  
  
"I don't suppose you know how to drive?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"I do," said Winry.  
  
For the second time in an hour the men looked at her like she'd turned blue. "What?" she said. "Don't believe a woman can drive?"  
  
"Of course women can drive, I just wasn't expecting…" Roy said.  
  
"When did you learn that?" demanded Al.  
  
"About six months ago. One of my clients drove up in a car. He wouldn't let me take the engine apart, so as a consolation, he taught me how to drive. Honestly, it's not that hard. It's mostly a timing thing." She turned to Roy, "I'm surprised you don't know how to do it."  
  
Roy fingered the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.  
  
"She does have a way with mechanical things," Ed admitted.   
  
"In any case, " Roy said. "I think it's time to go."


	22. Chapter 22

**DISTRACTION**

****  
  
  
  
"Oh my _god!"_ came a squeal from the elevator at the far end of the hall. A wonderful, high pitched feminine squeal that promised to belong to someone young and nubile. And it did. A pretty, slim, young blond exited the elevator, clutching at her clothes playfully. "Wait until we are upstairs, Al," she continued, giggling.  
  
"What the?" said Bolton, putting down his magazine to look at the other MP on duty.   
  
"Elric," muttered Foster, as if it explained everything. Elric was some sort of genius. He was also a complete horn dog. Keeping Elric happy was important to the Military, so he got to frolic in the halls with his girlfriend if he wanted to.  _Nice life,_ Bolton thought.  
  
The two walked down the hall towards the station. Damn. Bolton knew they had no shame, but this was beyond the pale. She was _almost_ wearing her uniform. The jacket was off, tucked over her arm. Her dress shirt was half way unbuttoned and freed of the pants, and Bolton wasn't sure if Al could crawl any higher up her blouse, without tripping or popping the remaining buttons. He could catch a glimpse of the half moon of flesh rising up over the lace of her white bra.  
  
 _Damn lucky kid._  
  
"Happy birthday to me," Elric was saying. "Happy birthday to me!" He suddenly seemed to notice Bolton and Foster. "Hey, I wanna take my girl to the best restaurant within walking distance. Where would that be?"  
  
Bolton blinked.  
  
"How much are you willing to pay?"  
  
"Money's no object," squealed the girl. Elric's smile looked slightly strained.   
  
Bolton snickered, and rattled off the name of a decent but not exactly five star restaurant a few blocks away.  
  
While he and Foster explained where the restaurant was, Midnight exited the elevator leading a group of three uniformed men. One was very short and slim with long blond hair and Bolton had to look twice to make sure it WAS a man. Midnight gave a quick nod. Bolton saluted and buzzed them through to the buildings lobby.  
  
Then he went back to watching Elric molest his girlfriend. "Is it really your birthday?"  
  
"I'm seventeen today." He looked younger, but then that was probably because he was short. Didn't girls prefer the taller types? At seventeen, Bolton was lucky to get a kiss, and never mind what the girl looked like. Elric's girlfriend was hot. Life wasn't fair.  
  
He buzzed them out the door with a salute and a wink. And when they were through, he and Foster laughed until they almost fell on the floor.  
  
  
  
 ****

LOST

****  
  
  
_I think I must be sick,_  Carr thought. It was the only explanation as to why he would be walking outside of the fifth lab, long before his shift ended, in the company of four men and a woman, who he vaguely knew, but whose names for some reason he couldn't put his finger on. The world had simply stopped making sense. He must be sick.  
  
But he wasn't afraid. He had been for a bit back in the lab but then a warm voice told him not to be and he wasn't anymore. Instead he felt confused and a bit worried and more than a little like he'd been drugged.  
  
He should go home and sleep whatever this was off, but when he took a step in that direction, a hand touched his shoulder and a voice that seemed to go right through his brain to his soul said "Stop. Wait." And so he did.   
  
He watched traffic. He thought about cars. He ignored the people with him.  
  
He wondered why he was standing at the street corner with someone's hand on his shoulder. He knew there was something more he should be doing, but he couldn't remember what. He hated this feeling.  
  
They were talking around him, but for the life of him he couldn't seem to follow what they were saying. It was just as well, since he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop on his charges. He was just there to do his duty, not spy on the people he was with. He also knew he wasn't supposed to pay attention to what they were doing either, and this made less sense, since usually he was _supposed_ to watch the people he was assigned to. But orders were orders, it wasn't his place to question them. He was just supposed to stay close and wait to be told what to do. It should have made perfect sense, but it didn't.  
  
They were moving again. "Carr, come," the voice said, and he followed them. He wondered where they were going.  
  
After a while they stopped again. Not long after that a car pulled up in front of them. He was directed to sit up front with the driver. He did, scooting in so that the man with the voice could sit next to him.  
  
"Are you feeling ok?" the driver asked. Carr blinked. Unlike the rest of the people he was with, for some reason the driver was in perfect focus and his words were clear as a bell.  
  
"I'm not sure," he said honestly.  
  
"Carr is a bit off today," said the voice smoothly. "He'll be fine."  
  
That summed it up pretty well.  _I'm off, but I'll be fine._  So he nodded.  
  
"Where to?" the driver asked. Someone said something, and the driver responded. "Ok, boss. It's a bit weird, but ok."  
  
They drove somewhere. The driver got out and the young woman took his place. They started driving again. Carr wished they would find some spot and drop him off as well, but it didn't happen. He was aware that the people around him seemed to be angry, and he had the feeling that it was about him. He wished he knew what he was doing wrong but he couldn't listen in, even though he wanted to.  
  
Then the man with the voice talked to him, telling him what he should do. He was going to help take someone down. There might be people with this man, and he'd have to restrain them. Fight them. At all costs he needed to protect everyone else in the car. He was their bodyguard after all.   
  
Carr felt relieved. This was something he knew how to do. It almost made what was going on feel normal.  
  
"Do you have any questions?" the dark eyed man asked him.  
  
As mission briefings went, it was pretty clear. "No, sir," he said.  
  
"Then don't worry about a thing. Just relax and let the world go by until we reach our destination." The hand patted his shoulder twice, reassuringly.  
  
Carr felt his emotions evaporate. He slouched in his seat and stared, aimlessly and almost thoughtlessly out the windows.  
  
  
  
 ****

**AMBUSH**

****  
  
  
Ashfell put down the phone and turned apologetically to Lt. Colonel Dunn. "Well, it seems I can't even take a day off these days without someone doing something stupid."  
  
Dunn sipped his brandy and looked sadly at the _go_  board. "I suppose you have to leave." Ashfell had actually been losing. His game was off today.   
  
"I'm afraid so. They are sending a car for me."  
  
"I don't suppose you can tell me what is up."  
  
Ashfell considered. Most of what he did was strictly secret, but Dunn knew enough about his charges that he could talk in broad terms about them. "Midnight decided to award Fullmetal with his arm back. Without consulting me."  
  
"Oh my." Dunn touched the collar of his shirt uncomfortably. "I thought he still had a few months before he was to be released. I don't suppose jail has tamed him much has it?"  
  
Ashfell considered it. "Perhaps a bit." It had been about a month since Ed had acted up, and honestly even then it hadn't been much. Calling Midnight insults. Insubordination. He hadn't shown any actual violent tendencies after the first week. It was, in fact, quite possible that he would arrive back at the 5th lab to find it absolutely normal.  
  
But that didn't mean that Ed could keep the arm. Not in jail. It would be too much of a temptation to break out.  
  
The array was in its final stages at this point. Perhaps it would be best to move the schedule of a few things up. Mustang would have to wait for the Fuhrer to arrive, but Al and Ed could have their minds wiped of the experiment at any point now. Then they could be released to go on more typical missions.   
  
Midnight and Mustang could handle the fine tuning by themselves. The Flame alchemist had a rather vested interest in making sure it worked correctly. He doubted the man would like to suffer brain damage on top of losing his will.  
  
"I need to make a few calls," Ashfell said. "It took six men to take down Fullmetal the first time. I want to make sure I have at least that many with me when I get that arm back off of him."  
  
He was midway through the call when he heard the bell to the front door. Dunn rose to get it. A moment later he returned with a somewhat familiar looking young man. "He says he's from the lab, " Dunn said.  
  
The man saluted sharply at Ashfell. "Sir, I've been ordered to escort you back to the lab."  
  
"I just heard," Ashfell said, well that was quick. "Have there been any problems? Will we need to call in reinforcements?"  
  
"I haven't heard of any damage, sir." Ashfell searched to remember the soldier's name. He was sure he'd seen him before around the 5th lab, but it wasn't a person he worked with frequently. "We have a car waiting for you, sir."  
  
Carr. That was it. Ashfell frowned. Low level security. If they were sending him out to escort Ashfell that meant that others must be tied up at the lab. Not good. Not good at all.  
  
Ashfell gave Dunn a final salute and grabbed his jacket from the coat closet. "I'll give you a call when things settle out a bit. I have a feeling that Fullmetal is giving my men something of a problem."  
  
"I wonder why Midnight would do such a thing."  
  
Ashfell shook his head. "He's naïve." But it did bother him. Midnight wasn't stupid. This made no sense.  
  
They walked out to the car, Carr staying a respectful step behind him, stepping ahead only when they got close enough for him to open the door. Ashfell slid onto the seat and scooted over to let Carr sit beside him.  
  
Ashfell glanced at Carr. The man was doing his best to imitate a mannequin. "You can relax soldier."  
  
Carr just continued to stare blankly ahead.   
  
The car moved out, and Ashfell pondered the situation. Midnight had bucked his authority before, but giving Fullmetal back his arm seemed strange even for him. Even without his arm, Fullmetal was a handful – quite capable of making arrays that could do a lot of damage. It took a delicate combination of threats and incentives to keep him in line. Adding the arm back in the mix was like lighting a cigarette around gasoline. Midnight couldn’t be so colossally stupid to not realize that.  
  
The car took an odd turn, and Ashfell suddenly came back to his situation. Instead of getting on the road back into town, they had turned off on a country lane headed _out_ of Central. Ashfell's heart began to hammer. He took in his position.  
  
He gave his driver a close look for the first time. Long pretty blond hair tied in a neat uniform-acceptable twist. She was not one of his usual drivers.  
  
"Soldier," he spoke up. "You've taking a wrong turn there. Are you not familiar with the route?" He put his hand to his gun, releasing the catch and loosening it from it's holster.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir," she said back. "I'll turn us around over here." She pulled into a long gravel driveway, and rode in past the gates to an area where tall hedges lined the way. She then inexplicably stopped.  
  
This was an ambush.  
  
Ashfell ducked down for cover reaching his arm up to place the gun to the back of her head. The girl jumped and shook, turning her head enough to see for certain what it was pressing against her. He recognized her vaguely, but couldn't quite place her face.  
  
"Soldier, you will back us up at once, or I will blow your brains out." If they moved back, he could take the advantage again by forcing his enemy to come out of cover or risk shooting their compatriot.  
  
Several things happened simultaneously at that point. The first was that Carr had come to life and was grabbing his hand hard pulling it down. The gun went off, through the seat back to put a starred hole in the windshield. The driver screamed and ducked down. At the same time the entire roof of the car mysteriously twisted and ripped away.  
  
Ashfell looked up to see a small lithe form leaping into the car onto his lap.  
  
The shock and sudden weight made him freeze, and for a moment he could only look into Fullmetal's wide golden eyes. The young man awarded him with an insane grin and pressed a blade against his throat.   
  
"I suggest you surrender," came a familiar, smooth voice from the bushes. Ashfell looked over to see Roy Mustang walk out.  
  
Ashfell swallowed. Pieces fell into place. They'd used the array. On Carr for sure. Maybe on others. Who knew how many of his people at the lab were compromised.  
  
He needed to get to a phone. An assault team was needed. Anyone who didn't immediately surrender would be shot. What a mess, what a mess. How had this happened? The prisoners were being specifically watched to prevent this from happening. The array hadn't even gone to human trials yet. Someone must have gotten sloppy.  
  
Ashfell pushed up suddenly, and by sheer strength prized his arm away from Carr and threw Fullmetal off his lap and into Carr's . The kid had a lot of wild energy, but he still weighed almost nothing. For a moment the two of them were tangled enough for Ashfell to raise his gun again and fire a round at Fullmetal.  
  
There was a clank as the bullet hit automail and ricocheted into the car door.  
  
Then the seat at his back undulated around him and wound him around the chest and arms in leather coils. Ashfell looked back and saw Al perched on the trunk of the car with a piece of chalk in his hand. "Drop that gun or I'll squeeze you." He touched his hand down on his impromptu array and the coils tightened, threatening to cut off Ashfells breath.  
  
This was out of control.  
  
"Are you ok, Brother?"  
  
Fullmetal rubbed his automail arm. "I seem to be. I think."  
  
"Listen, there is no way the three of you can fight off the entire army. They know what is up. Surrender or you will be hunted down and shot."  
  
The coils tightened more and Ashfell couldn’t speak. The gun dropped out of his hand and fell on the floor.  
  
"Carr, get that," Mustang said. Carr retreaved the gun and held it on Ashfell. "Al, loosen up, I think he's turning blue."  
  
Ashfell gasped for breath when the leather loosened.  
  
Wait. Wait. Wait for the slip up. They didn't want him dead, or they would have killed him by now. They wanted something from him.  
  
"You should have run while you could, Mustang. Is this revenge coming after me?"  
  
"Hardly. You are here because you are useful."  
  
A fourth figure stepped out of the bushes. Midnight. "We need your help," he said.  
  
"Midnight, are you stupid or psychotic?" _Or arrayed?_  thought Ashfell with a sudden lurch. Oh god, he _was_ arrayed. It all made sense. And that would mean that they meant to…  
  
Ashfell fought against the straps hard. "If you think I'll sit still while you draw your blasted array on me, you have another thing coming. I'd rather die."  
  
Ed crawled back into his lap, his automail arm shifted back into shape. "Where should I put it?"  
  
"Wherever you can," Roy said. "Somewhere where it won't be readily seen."  
  
Ed considered. "Well, Al's got him tied up pretty good, so I don't want to mess with that. Hmmm. Winry, you better climb out." The blond driver scrambled quickly out of the car and Ed clapped his hands and pressed it to the seat in front of them. The driver's seat jerked a couple of feet forward along with the entire front half of the car. The part they were in suddenly fell downward a foot to rest on the gravel.   
  
Ashfell struggled again, but each time he did the straps tightened just a bit more.   
  
Ed capered down his legs and crouched on the gravel near his feet. "How about here."  
  
Ashfell kicked him. Hard. But Ed's reaction time was uncanny. The kid pulled his head just a fraction of an inch out of range, and the only thing Ashfell's shoe connected with was the fringe of blond hair on the side of his face.  
  
Midnight and Carr soon flanked Ed, each holding down one of Ashfell's legs. Ed jerked the laces of his left shoe undone, and while Ashfell's eyes widened pulled the shoe off entirely. The grey sock followed.  
  
"This wont hurt," Ed said. "I don't think." He clapped his hands again and placed them on the sole of his foot.  
  
Oh god, it didn't hurt but it felt weird. Like something twisting under his flesh. Ashfell let out a scream, not out of pain but rather to alert anyone to his presence.  
  
"Just turning a bit of your skin into graphite."  
  
"Make it deep, " said Al. "The feet shed pretty regularly. We don't want this wearing off."  
  
Ashfell wanted to kill Al. He could imagine the sound the kids twig thin neck would make when he snapped the vertebrae.  
  
"Done," Ed said.  
  
"I'm going to kill you all," Ashfell growled.  
  
Al slid down into the seat vacated by Carr, and smiled sweetly at him. "You shouldn't threaten people on their birthday." Ed and Midnight bent Ashfell's foot up across his knee. "Especially not people who can do this." Al reached over with the tip of one finger and touched.  
  
Ashfell screamed one last time.

 


	23. Chapter 23

 

  
**ONE FINAL HOPE**

****  
  
"Release him," said Mustang, with a broad closed-lipped smile.  
  
Ashfell felt the straps loosening, stretching, breaking, and sliding down around him. For a moment he did nothing, assessing the situation.  
  
He didn't feel any different. But he saw the glow of alchemy and felt a slight tingle in his foot where Al had touched. He'd heard his own mouth speak his assent.

 

"Yes." _Yes,_ he would obey. Yes, he trusted Mustang.

  
He looked at Mustang.  _It's true, I trust him. I trust what he says is true. I trust that he is competent, and that what he sets his mind to he will do. But that doesn't change the fact that I'd rather die than be his slave._  
  
It doesn't change the fact that I want to kill him.  
  
Perhaps, just perhaps the array didn't work quite as it was supposed to. Certainly Ashfell was no thoughtless zombie, the way Carr appeared to be. Ah, but they didn't know that did they. If Ashfell was quick enough….  
  
He schooled his expression to be blank. It was difficult. Even under less stressful circumstances he was not much of an actor. He tentatively stood up and put his feet on the ground. The gravel dug painfully into his bare foot, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins counteracted the discomfort. He took two steps closer to Roy.   
  
He should say something to put the man off guard. _What do you want me to do?_ would be a logically subservient thing to say, but Ashfell wouldn't do that. If the array was at all active that would be an invitation for Mustang to interfere with him.   
  
Three more steps. Mustang simply watched him, eyes assessing. If he could get his hands on Roy's neck, he could snap it before the man had a chance to say anything. Almost there.  
  
Closer. Then he launched himself.  
  
Mustang simply stepped back and to the side, allowing Ashfell to run past him. "You won't hurt me," he said calmly.  
  
Ashfell balled his fists impotently. _Not me, perhaps, but someone surely will. A lot. And soon._ He looked daggers at Roy, wishing his anger alone could do the job.  
  
"Don't direct his actions," Al said. "It's not like ordering a soldier. You have to address his motivations."  
  
Roy's eyes flickered over to Al, narrowing.  _Ah, some rivalry. A little dissent amongst the ranks._  Ashfell turned to consider the slight, small youth. So fragile looking, so young. Yet, that's where the real power was. Get Al, and Roy was a goner.  
  
"Don't let him use you, Al," Ashfell said. "You can get out of this still. You have a promising military career ahead of you – both you and your brother. Don't throw it all away on this piece of trash."  
  
Al said nothing.   
  
"He's _using_ you, boy." Ashfell continued.  
  
"That's enough," Mustang said. "Be quiet."  
  
Ashfell couldn't find words. Damn it all, the array _was_ working. This was going to be hell.  
  
"You have to address his motivations," Al said. "Not his actions. He's _useless_ to us otherwise."  
  
"Clarify," Mustang said abruptly. Angrily.  
  
"If you keep directing what he does and what he thinks, he's going to look like Carr. No one is going to think he is uncompromised. I'm sure there are at least a few other people in the lab who know what we are up to. When they see him, they will simply call out the heavy guns."  
  
Ashfells assessment of Al rose a few notches. Midnight was right, the kid was smart. If only he could talk, he could play on that… perhaps convince the kid of the futility of his actions.  
  
"Stop being his commanding officer. Be his…" Al hesitated.  
  
"Be his what."  
  
"God." Al's eyes seemed a bit bright. This was killing the kid. Yes. He didn't like doing this. Ashfell could work that, too. He couldn't speak, but he could use his eyes. His body movements. He put all into what acting skill he had and begged the kid with his eyes.  _Protect me. From him. Don't let him do this to me._  
  
Al looked briefly at him then turned his head pointedly away.  _Damn._  
  
"Don't tell him what to do. Tell him what to believe."  
  
 _Oh, hell no._  
  
Ashfell turned and ran. If he could get to the road…  
  
"Stop," ordered Mustang.  
  
Ashfell's feet became glued to the ground, but his momentum pushed him over, he tumbled into the grass.  
  
"Don't move." Ashfell found himself staring at the grass, hunched over, propped up by his hands, his legs twisted under him. He couldn't move.  
  
Al continued, "I know you think that it's better to just deal with the body. Leave the soul alone," said Al. "I know you think that somehow resolves your guilt that you haven't changed the real him, only imprisoned him in his flesh. I considered this as well. But that's not the way it works. It hurts him, and it doesn't help us. You have to go to the core. Tell him to love you. Tell him to want to do what you say. Make your dreams, his dreams. That's how it works. That's how it worked with…"  
  
With Midnight. That's why Midnight acted like a normal person.  
  
Midnight knew this, too, because Ashfell could hear his anguished, "Al…"  
  
"Andrew, lets go for a walk," Al said. "Let Roy figure this out for himself."  
  
And for a while it was quiet. Then Ashfell felt a hand on his back. "You can stand up," Mustang said. Ashfell did. He saw Al and Midnight walking slowly down the gravel road. The driver – that would be Al's girl Ashfell realized – was sitting on the side of the road next to Ed and Carr. The three of them watching what was going on, quietly. Well, what a posse, Mustang had here. Was there more or was this it?  
  
Ashfell's people would crush them. The _real_ car coming to pick him up would surely have arrived by now at Dunn's. Dunn would realize that Ashfell had been kidnapped. Dunn would call headquarters, get the real troops out. They would be combing the area by now looking for him.  
  
It was all going to end bad for Mustang and his people. Ashfell didn't have to lift a hand. He smiled.  
  
"It would be better to have you as an ally," Mustang said. "I'll have you know, I don't enjoy doing evil things. I don't mind giving people orders, but I don't like making…"  
  
 _Don't like owning people?_ thought Ashfell.  _Come on. You are fooling no one. You_ love _manipulating people. Or is it just that you don't like to cheat when you twist their thoughts into your own?_  
  
Mustangs face suddenly grew hard as though he'd made a decision he didn't like. "You want to be my ally," he said.  
  
Ashfell shuddered. Something deep within shifted and for a moment his thoughts slid sideways and became incongruent. Then they settled back into place.  
  
Manipulation is what everyone wanted. Everyone in power. Roy was no different. He just payed a steeper price than most for his ambitions.  
  
For the first time Ashfell felt a bit sorry for Mustang. Really, the only thing he had wanted, his greatest sin, was to want to depose the Fuhrer and take his place. This was nothing that many others didn't also want. Even Ashfell had more than a few moments when he wished the Fuhrer would fall down a flight of stairs or something. The only reason Mustang was being so brutally punished was so that he could serve as a deterrent against others.  
  
Ashfell's eyes widened with sudden realization.   
  
Mustang the untouchable. That's what he was always called. No matter how he schemed, no matter how much he placed himself in untenable situations. No matter how defiant, he always landed on his feet. That's what Ashfell had hated most. The slickness of him. That oily, slippery ability to shirk responsibility for his actions. He always got off with a slap on the wrist and a shaken finger. Always, until Ashfell burst into his house at 3 am and took him, stripped him of absolutely everything, and tossed his sorry ass in jail.  
  
Oh, that had felt good to see the untouchable Mustang go down at last. Finally succumb to the same rules as everyone else.   
  
And that was precisely why the Fuhrer had done it. It had told everyone in the military that no one was immune. If they thought to oppose him, they would lose it all. It had cemented his power over the military the way nothing else could have.  
  
For the first time Ashfell actually wondered if the damning evidence he'd found in Mustang's house were even real – or had it been planted?  
  
Mustang was frowning now. "You can speak, " he finally said.  
  
"Can you answer me a question?" Ashfell asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Was it a frame up? Your treason. Was that framed."  
  
Roy smiled. "Only sort of. The evidence they showed me was planted, but I did plan on deposing the Fuhrer. This Fuhrer has been nothing but a disaster for our country."  
  
That was so true.  
  
"And you think you will make a good one. A good Fuhrer. A better one than what we have?"  
  
"Yes. And so do you."  
  
  
  
 ****

**COMFORT**

****  
  
Al put a companionable hand on Midnight's back. "We had to do this to him. There was no other choice." He wasn't sure if he was talking to Midnight or himself. Did it matter?  
  
"Al," said Midnight.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"When this is over, will you -- will he remove the arrays?"  
  
"Absolutely." In this Al was determined. "And I'll destroy all record of them as well. There is such a thing as too much power."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
 _For what? For promising to let you be your own person again. For not wanting to enslave the world? How big of me._  
  
"Al," said Midnight.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm glad it was you." Midnight's eyes were straight ahead.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"And not him."  
  
Al couldn't say anything. He wished it was just the opposite. But then how much was his innocence worth? Did it really stack up against what Midnight, Carr and Ashfell had lost?   
  
"I'm all right," Midnight continued. "You don't have to worry about me."  
  
Al shook his head at the irony. To think Midnight would be comforting him.  
  
  
 ****

**USELESS**

****  
  
  
"You know that was a sweet piece of machinery before you tore it apart." Winry looked sadly at the remains of the car. "I don't think even the best engineer could put that back together again."  
  
Ed followed her eyes. Boy, he'd made a hash of it hadn't he. It wouldn't be driving anywhere, likely ever again. Unless he fixed it. Which, perhaps he could do. It would be better than just sitting here uselessly while his brother and Roy dealt with their prospective wards.  
  
Ed smacked his palms together. The ache in his automail grew worse briefly, but then subsided again. Ed's mind was already past that, visualizing the array he'd need, feeling the power swell through him, like a river through its banks. It circulated, spiraled in strength, followed the lines of his mind and, there, reached its peak. He touched his hands to the ground and "placed" the array.  
  
Light reflected off the trees. Time bent backwards in a slow, controlled way. The front half of the car jerked backwards to meet its mate; the metal remembered its connections. Bolts shaken loose by his earlier violence rose off the ground, defying gravity, then slipped into their former place. What fluids hadn't escaped deep into the ground separated from the dirt and flowed backwards into their proper receptacles. Hoses united, fiber rewove itself into a whole. Wires touched, melted without heat. The twisted top rose off the gravel and settled itself into place, straightening, jagged edges smoothing, melding. Finishing.  
  
The car remembered itself.   
  
"Or perhaps you can just do that," said Winry, laughing a little. "Alchemy really is practically magic isn't it."  
  
"Hardly," Ed said.   
  
Ed breathed hard. It had been a while since he'd done this much alchemy. There was a time, not long ago, when this wouldn't have broken a sweat on him. He was out of practice, not only from the time in jail, but the year before that, when the most power he needed to draw in a single day would be just enough to create a book.   
  
And this day wasn't over. Who knew what else he would have to do before it was done.  
  
Well, if nothing else, Al's birthday was certainly turning into a memorable experience.  
  
Carr made a strange murmuring sound, and both of them looked guiltily at him.  
  
"I wish Roy would do something about him," Winry said. "This is putrid."  
  
Ed nodded. "I hope Roy does a better job with Ashfell."  
  
  
 ****

**DAMAGE CONTROL**

****  
  
Roy felt horrible, but Al was right. He couldn't treat Ashfell like a subordinant and just order him around. He had hoped that he could leave the true person untouched and just deal with the surface – that somehow his victim would simply accept his orders the way any soldier under his command would. It seemed reasonable. Ordering men to do things, even ordering men to think things was par for the course as a military officer. The soldier never had any say in the matter.  
  
But the array didn't work that way. The mind, body and soul were too interconnected. Roy could practically see Car's soul withering. Under pressure from Al he had made what he thought were kind suggestions to ease the others suffering, but it only made it worse.  
  
He wouldn't make the same mistake here.  
  
 _My goals are yours. You want to do what is in my best interests. You want to be my ally._  Small sentences. Small words. Utterly unreasonable requests.  
  
 _I will not tell him to love me. I draw the line there. I will_ earn _my worship._  
  
Al was right. It worked. He'd changed Ashfell to the core, and yet the burly man was more himself than he would have been if Roy had merely told him what to do.  
  
Was this really all that different from manipulation? Was this different than how he convinced Ed and Al to join his team. It was quicker, and it lacked the quid pro quo he'd used with the brothers. There was nothing in this for Ashfell, except maybe a safer world to work in. But aside from that, was this really all that different? Mustang still recognized the Thug, but his attitude had turned 180 degrees.  
  
"You are all pretty well screwed, " Ashfell was saying.  
  
Roy frowned. "I figured there might be complications. Elaborate."  
  
"Before your people picked me up, I was on the phone to _my_ people. They will have noticed that you are missing. Escaped. The whole lab is on alert."  
  
Roy hissed. "I figured that might happen. But it was a risk I had to take."  
  
Ashfell nodded. "You need massive amounts of damage control. I'm not sure I can handle it by myself. You worked me into a corner here."  
  
"What would you suggest?"  
  
"Don't try to pretend this was anything other than what it looks like."  
  
Roy's eyes widened. "If they knew I was using arrays…"  
  
"No, leave that quiet. Most of 5th lab know nothing about the arrays anyway. In fact other than those of us here, there are only two others who know the true nature of your experiments. Even the techs who did the rats and dogs have no clue what they were being used for. Some of the gaurds may have guessed, but to be honest, I chose the dullest most trustworthy personnel I could to be your babysitters in the lab for precisely that reason."  
  
"Who are the two."  
  
"The Fuhrer of course, and my second. Luckily for you, it is my job to inform the first of what goes wrong. As for the other, I have no doubt he is coordinating a search party to find you as we speak. It wouldn't surprise me if he called up most of Central to help out."  
  
"That is a tough place. Your suggestion?"  
  
"This was a kidnapping for revenge. Hold me hostage. Make a show of it. Tell Al and Midnight and Winry to scram, but Ed will have to be with us, they won't stop looking until he's accounted for."  
  
"And then when they find us?"  
  
"Surrender. And hopefully they won't hurt you too badly on the way back to your cell. But I expect you will get a pretty good beating. My people are very loyal to me. They won't be happy that you accosted me."  
  
"And Carr."  
  
"Unfortunately Dunn saw him. He'll have to go down, too."  
  
Roy looked at the young guard, sitting on the side of the road, staring blankly into space. It was unfair.   
  
Ashfell understood. "We can try and convince them that he was threatened into doing it. I don't know how convincing that will be."  
  
"Carr goes with the others," Roy said. "He's out of this."  
  
"Dunn saw him. It will be a glaring flaw in the investigation."  
  
"Which _you_ will head up." Roy's eyes were fixed on Carr. "He goes. He is my responsibility. He is my screw up. He at least gets to sleep in his own bed tonight." Now that Roy understood, he would have to undo as best he could the damage his earlier orders had done.  
  
Ashfell nodded and Roy fancied he saw the beginnings of genuine admiration. "I'm beginning to see why your underlings were so loyal."

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

**TRUST**

  
  
"That's the plan?" Ed growled. "We give up? What the hell kind of a plan is that?"  
  
"One that will work," said Roy smoothly, putting a hand on Ed's back. "Trust me."  
  
Trust me. It was like some mantra of Roy's. Trust me. Trust me. Do what I say. Ed wanted to trust him. Desperately. He'd been clinging to that trust like a drowning man to a log, because if it slipped for a second…  
  
His trust was slipping. This was a disaster. This wasn't the plan, at least not the plan that Roy had told him in the small hours, in the dark, when the touch of Roy's flesh against him made him feel giddy and warm. That plan said lay low, act normal, take out just enough of the lab 5 personnel to insure privacy, and when the Fuhrer came to witness Roy's final punishment, they would turn the tables and put him under an array instead.  
  
Leaving the lab was not part of the plan. Neither was holding hostages. Nor was giving up. Whatever happened to being quiet? Whatever happened to, "no one will notice." If stealth weren't important, Ed could have just transmuted a goddamn tunnel out of 5th lab, and sure the noise would have brought half of Central on them, but at least then he wouldn't have had to wear this stiff uncomfortable uniform.  
  
 _Trust me._ Roy said. What did that mean?  _Code for "don't think for yourself,"_  Ed thought bitterly.  _I'm like a chess piece to him, and not even a high powered chess piece like a knight or a castle. I'm a freaking pawn._  
  
Ed glanced at Roy who seemed to have taken his silence as a sign that he was mollified, and wandered back over to Ashfell. Ed's breath hitched a little at the sight of his lover. The smooth elegance to the way he walked, the commanding aura that he exuded. The memory of the hands and lips brought a rush of totally inappropriate emotions.  
  
Roy wanted his trust, but Roy didn't trust him. All he asked was to not be kept in the dark, but that's exactly what Roy had done. Kept him in the dark for 3 months, stringing him along with tantalizing hints, and distracting him with caresses. It all seemed designed to put the cynical side of his brain to sleep.  
  
And was that all it was?  
  
This was a hard line of thought and where it lead was very painful and ugly. Roy knew Ed was in love, could he be PLAYING on that? Was that deliberate? Did Roy feel anything like the same thing for Ed? Or was this some way to control him. Had that man looked right through him and found his weakness and played it for all it was worth?  
  
 _No, he loves me. He said so, many times in the dark. Before, after, during._  
  
He also said, "I haven't even seen a woman in 13 months."  
  
Ed closed his eyes tightly and pressed his aching automail to his forehead. It was hopeless. It was ridiculous to even think that somehow he and Roy were going to wander off into some proverbial sunset and live happily ever after.   
  
If they lost here, Roy was going to be a slave and he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. Alone this time, without the distraction of romance or an alchemical project to relieve the boredom of his days. He should savor this ache, because he wasn't likely to ever feel the automail again.  
  
And even if somehow Roy was RIGHT and it did work out in the end, there still would be no happily ever after, at least not for Ed. Al and Winry would have each other, and go off somewhere to start their life. And oh, he'd be welcome. As a visitor. As an outsider. But the team of him and Al was over. Forever.   
  
He'd lost Winry through sheer neglect. In retrospect, he could see that she had flirted with him, had wanted him, and if he'd played his cards right when he was sixteen, she would have probably even chosen him. But he didn't, and she'd moved on. She'd made her choice and it wasn't him. Al had won the bet they'd made when they were children. Ed had lost. He'd lost both of them.  
  
As for Roy -- he would be surrounded by beautiful willing women, the way men of power always are. Ed's name would be written down between Daphne and Ella in some black book, on call if Roy should ever feel the whim to have something more masculine to put his hands on. And Ed would probably even be grateful every time that call came.  
  
And Ed… well he could just find a pit to slink off to, with the words "I'm a sap who will do anything for love, take advantage of me," taped to his back.  
  
Ed's stomach soured, and he couldn't bear to look at any of his companions.  
  
Roy must have sensed something was up because suddenly he was at Ed's back again, hands wrapping around his shoulders chin on his head. Holding him. Ed should have melted, but he tightened up instead. "This will work. It really will," Roy was whispering in his ear. "It's only a small set back."  
  
"Let's run away." Ed said suddenly, pulling away from Roy. He turned around and met Roy's dark eyes. "Just you, me, Al and Winry. We'll leave the others behind. We've got a car, we could go a long way before it ran out of gas. We could find a quiet place to settle down where they won't find us. Maybe we could even make it to the border, and be truly free."  
  
Roy grabbed his shoulders again in a solid grip. "We can't do that. This is more than just about us. People are dying needlessly. When I'm Fuhrer, I will find a way to resolve these wars."  
  
 _But I don't want you to become Fuhrer,_  Ed thought.  _I want you to hide away where no one else can find you. Where you won't dare show your face in public. Where I can have you all to myself… ah hell, that is selfish._ He covered his eyes with his automail.   
  
"I don't see how giving up is going to help anything."  
  
"We aren't giving up," Roy said. "We are _letting_ ourselves be recaptured. If this plays out the way Ashfell and I have discussed, then you will have your automail arm back by the end of the day, and you and I won't have to sleep in one of those tiny hard cell cots tonight either. We will have a nice comfortable bed." Roy leaned closer and whispered, "And I can show you a few new tricks."  
  
Ed felt a pleasant shudder and bit his lip. No, he wasn't going to let Roy distract him with sex again. "You and Ashfell discussed this. What about me? Don't I get any say in this?" He felt a rush of anger. "This is my life on the line, too. I have been pulling off missions since I was twelve years old. What makes you think I don't have any contributions I can make to this one?"

 

He pulled away from Roy completely and walked a few paces away. "You want me to trust you," he said looking back. "Well, start trusting me. I'm not an idiot. I'm not just muscle. I'm not just a guy who can make things go boom. I've got a brain, too. Use it. Maybe if you had, we wouldn't be in this situation."

  
Roy looked taken aback.  
  
 _Good._  
  
"What do you want me to do, Ed."  
  
"I want you to stop telling me to trust you, and start telling me what the hell we are doing."  
  
  


 

**THE CALM**

  
  
  
There were flaws in the plan. Flaws the size of mountains. Ed counted them off on his fingers one by one: The missing car, the missing guard, the first driver, Dunn, Midnight doing suspicious things. Even Al and Winry, who were supposedly out at dinner – _Without an escort? Never!_  
  
Even a poor investigator would be able to figure out the pieces of this puzzle didn't match the picture on the box.  
  
Roy shook his head. No one was going to compare the pieces to the picture, because no one was ever going to assemble the puzzle. It was worth it all for Ashfell. With Ashfell on their side, they could get away with anything. Ashfell had been pretty adamant about his people being loyal to him. They wouldn't go over his head.  
  
Things only needed to stay quiet for a week. Six days now.   
  
Yes, there was risk, Roy knew – but he discounted all the ones that Ed had pointed out.   
  
The real risk was that Ashfell's men would simply shoot them before they had a chance to surrender.   
  
What they really needed was a goodly dose of luck and a place to hole up.  
  
After the others left with the car, they continued up the driveway. Ed had spotted the telephone wire strung across a field and followed it to a small cottage. They needed a phone to make this work.  
  
Ed helped break into the house. The only occupant was an old woman, who took their invitation to run quite seriously, and took off down the gravel path as quickly as her arthritic knees allowed her to. Although it looked quite comical, none of the three laughed. They waited fifteen minutes after she'd rounded the last bend before Ashfell plucked the knitted cozy off the phone and dialed in.  
  
Roy took the moment to just relish being out of prison. The air smelled good. Even inside where there was just a hint of camphor and dust, it still smelled, frankly, marvelous. Outside the trees were winter bare, and the sky very pale, just starting to turn a bit pink around the edges.  
  
Roy noticed Ed staring out the window and sucked in a breath. For a moment, with the late rays of sunlight hitting his face, he seemed to be glowing. Ed had always been beautiful and vibrant and untouchable. He was the same now, only now Roy could reach out his hand, if he chose, and confirm with his fingers what his eyes already knew.  
  
Or that's how it should be.  
  
Ed turned his way, met his eye, then looked away again – just a bit too quickly.  
  
Roy's stomach jerked. He was losing Ed. He didn't know what he did or didn't do, but just as things were coming together in his plan, something was falling apart between them.  
  
The light faded. The moment of quiet was almost over. Ashfell was looking at Roy expectantly. His hand was on the phone's receiver, holding it out.   
  
Roy wished he had time to talk it over with Ed. But there wasn't time, and this wasn’t the sort of thing he wanted to talk about in front of Ashfell anyway. Life was due to become quite hectic in the next few minutes, and there would be no time to talk about it for sometime after that either.  
  
Roy reached out and took the phone. In his coldest voice he began talking. "We are serious here. If you do not meet our terms in three hours, you will find his body in the river."  
  
"What are your terms again?" came the voice over the other end. Playing for time. Roy gave it to them. He rattled off things that made sense. Money, a car, civilian clothes. He grinned while he described Ed's size, looking slyly out of the corner of his eye to see if the young man had picked up on the oblique height reference. Ed didn't appear to be listening.  
  
The man on the other end of the line played dumb and had him repeat several times.   
  
Surely it shouldn't take this long to trace a call, thought Roy. Any sensible villain would have hung up the phone long ago, and they knew he wasn't dumb.  
  
Then suddenly the man on the other end said, "We've heard your terms, now you will hear ours."  
  
"Your terms?" said Roy pretending to be ignorant, but his heart started beating triple time. This was it.  
  
With his hand, he gestured to Ed fiercely.  _MOVE MOVE MOVE!_ Roy's stomach bottomed out. God, why wasn't Ed moving?   
  
Ed just stood there in the window, looking out like a fool. No, not quite like a fool – like someone tempting fate. Like someone just cutting it close for the thrill of cutting it close. There was that smile on his face that had nothing to do with humor or happiness. His eyes were narrowed.  
  
 _Goddamn that kid._ "ED MOVE!" Roy dropped the phone and reached out to him.  
  
Ed dropped to the ground just as the window smashed into pieces, and bullets shattered the neat row of pictures framed on the wall on the far side of the room.  _Damn it!_  
  
And in the dim light, Ed met his eyes again, searching, and then looking somehow more satisfied. Had Roy passed some kind of test? How? By nearly having a heart attack? By being absolutely _furious_ with Ed? What the hell was the kid trying to prove?  
  
After the initial hail of bullets died down, the tinny voice from the phone continued. Roy barely got the receiver to his ear in time to catch what the man was saying. "Our terms are you can surrender in the next thirty seconds, or you can die. Which will it be?"


	25. Chapter 25

**SURRENDER**

  
  
  
Major Devers watched with satisfaction as the windows disintegrated, and a scattered row of holes marred the outside of the cottage. His ears rang. He turned back to the box that housed the field phone, and nodded to the soldier manning it.  
  
The men and women with him took the time to inspect and reload their weapons. Hopefully the show of initial force would convince those within that they meant business and the hostage was not the bargaining chip they thought he would be.  
  
Devers sincerely hoped that the bullets had missed Ashfell. He liked and admired the man, and serving under him had been enlightening and enjoyable. But the military's policy on hostage takers was firm. Never give in. If there were casualties, so be it.  
  
The man at the phone nodded his head Devers way. Devers signaled his people to resume position. He lifted his hand and they aimed. He then looked at his watch and counted down the seconds.  
  
At second 10 he heard some arguing. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. By second 20 the arguing reached a peak. Then at second 28 something white was thrown out the window. A lace doily, Devers realized with a smirk. He signaled his people to go back to a ready position.  
  
"Tell them to throw out the automail and the guns. They have another 30 seconds."  
  
More arguing inside, but then first two guns, then the automail arm was tossed out the window.  
  
"Leg as well." He wanted Fullmetal thoroughly disabled before he stormed the place. Even without an arm, Edward Elric was quite a fighter. It had taken blinding and six men to bring him down the first time, and even then two men had been injured. Devers didn't want any of his men injured this time.  
  
The leg came out the window.  
  
He signaled his people to rush the house. Devers followed at a more sedate pace. By the time he reached the front door, the house had been secured.  _Almost disappointingly easy,_  thought Devers.   
  
He looked at the three men lying prone on the glass-strewn rug. His people were shackling Mustang's arms and legs. Elric's remaining arm was being pinned back to his waist with a shackle and a piece of rope. As a precaution Ashfell was being held down as well, but Devers people were less certain about what to do with him. "Let him up," Devers said.  
  
Ashfell rose and dusted himself off. He looked remarkably calm for a man in such a position. Devers admired his composure. "Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Was … _it_ … involved?" whispered Devers.  
  
"Thankfully it hasn't moved to human trials yet, and neither Mustang nor Elric were allowed to practice it on the animals. No, it seems Mustang smooth talked Midnight into giving Elric back his arm, then Elric was able to overpower their guard. They used alchemy to conjure up the uniforms, and then they just walked out of the place."  
  
Devers looked relieved. This almost fit the scenario he'd been building. Then he looked around. "There should be another person here… the guard…"  
  
"He was another hostage," said Ashfell. "I convinced them to let him go."  
  
That didn't quite fit, but he let it pass for the moment.  
  
"Is the facility secure?" asked Ashfell.  
  
"Yes. There appears to be no physical damage. However, the other Elric brother is unaccounted for, as is Midnight. "  
  
"It's their day off, they could be anywhere. Keep looking."  
  
"I thought they might be involved here. There were sightings."  
  
"I didn't see either of them."  
  
Devers frowned. He looked over the damaged house. "Well, at least it ended well. I'll have Davidson and Ming mop up and start the investigation here."  
  
Ashfells eyes narrowed, then he nodded. "You do that. My primary concern is to get those two back where they belong. Tell me everything you know so far."  
  
Devers went down the list of what he'd done in the last four hours. Ashfell grunted occasionally, and finally gave his back a clap. "Good job." Ashfell's hand moved up to his shoulder and squeezed. "Listen, Major. It looks like they were pretty quiet about their break out. And since Central hasn't been called up on this one, I'd like to keep this whole incident in-house, if you know what I mean."  
  
Devers understood entirely. The fact that Mustang and Elric were able to break out at all reflected rather poorly on the staff. Since the incident had gone down smoothly, sweeping it the rest of the way under the rug was probably the most face-saving way to go. Of course, they would need to do their own investigation to prevent a repeat of the same mistakes, but the file could then be buried.  
  
"The Fuhrer need not be bothered with this," Ashfell stated.  
  
"I suppose then that the condition of the prisoners need not be fully reported, either."  
  
"Mustang will need to be presentable with the Fuhrer comes… other than that…" Ashfell gave him a malicious smile.   
  
Devers smiled back. "I will personally see to Mustang's punishment." Ashfell just nodded. Devers signaled his people again. They lifted the prisoners up like sacks and carried them to the back of the waiting van.   
  
The ride back to the fifth lab was uneventful. Except for the cries and moans and the periodic thuds and smacks coming from the back, there was silence.  
  
  
  
  


**TORTURE**

  
  
Roy regained consciousness again while being dragged down a corridor by his wrists. He opened his eyes to see the periodic caged bulbs against a sound-textured ceiling. He blinked and looked over to see the brightly painted numbers on the side of the corridor.   
  
He was home. 5th lab.  
  
The cell they thrust him in was vaguely familiar. Dull grey walls, suspicious outlets placed at waist height. The pipes. The steel bed with built in manacles.  
  
He'd been here before.  
  
Even the people here were familiar. There was the Weasel, for once not looking the least like he wanted to be Roy's friend. The man's thin face was hard, and his eyes just slightly narrowed.   
  
"Undress him and get him down," the Weasel ordered.   
  
Roy's head swam as they jostled him about, removing the uniform, shoes tossed into a corner, shirt pulled off so quickly and roughly that a few of the buttons tore free and bounced. He tried to hold out his arms to steady himself and keep from being slammed against the floor or the edge of the bed, but his hands were grabbed and he was spun about. His head hit the wall and caused bright lights to dance in front of his eyes.   
  
Then they hoisted him up, pulled him open and strapped him down. His fists were pried open and a soft roll shoved into each palm, then wrappings used to enclose it all. They didn’t didn't want him to be making arrays with his blood.  
  
Which meant that there would be blood this time.  
  
The Weasel grabbed Roy's chin and forced him to look at him. "You have to look pretty for the Fuhrer in a week. This limits me somewhat. So I will be doing very shallow cuts, mainly to your torso, but other areas as well. We'll start on your front, and then do your back. Your face and hands will not be touched. When I'm done with that, you will be put back in isolation again until the Fuhrer's arrival."  
  
Roy steeled himself. There was no getting out of this, but hopefully it wouldn't last too long.  
  
"You are off the project, of course. I'm afraid Midnight will have to finish those arrays on his own. For your sake, lets hope they aren't too damaging when it's time for you to go under one. I'd hate to see you a reduced to a drooling idiot."  
  
Roy tried to move his head away, but the Weasel's grip tightened. Roy didn’t care what position the Weasel had in the organization, he vowed that the man _would_ go under his array, and when that happened, he'd take a moment to let it sink in before he let Al activate it. He wondered what kind of face the man would put on then.  
  
There was a muffled scream from nearby. Roy's heart suddenly slammed.   
  
The Weasel smiled and put a hand to his ear. "Ah, listen to that."

"Who?"  
  
"That would be your roommate. Edward Elric. I thought you might wonder what had become of him, so I had him put in the room next door."  
  
There was another heartrending scream. No that couldn't be Ed. Ed never screamed. Not even when they attached his automail.   
  
"Wondering what they are doing to him, I suppose," said the Weasel. "Well I won't keep you in suspense. We decided that electrical shocks would be the proper treatment for him. Once every thirty seconds, for various durations and intensity. They should just be on his fingers now. I imagine by the time they get to his automail ports he should be much louder. Of course, that's not where they will end."  
  
 _No. No. No._ Ed wasn’t supposed to get hurt. "Leave him alone," said Roy. "I talked him into it. It's not his fault. Punish me instead."  
  
"Oh, I believe you talked him into this. He should be really angry with you for getting him into this mess." The Weasel's smile was thin and sadistic.  
  
Another scream. Louder this time.  
  
Roy moaned and closed his eyes. He'd failed Ed. How would ever make this up to him? How could Ed ever forgive him for this?  
  
"Don't worry, though, we plan to punish you, good and proper. But really what could be more punishing than hearing your lover shriek and not being able to do anything about it. To know you were the one to put him in this position in the first place.   
  
"Or rather, I should say ex-lover. You'll not be seeing him again. And even if you should pass him in the halls sometime in the future, I rather doubt he will give you the time of day. I imagine he will hate you for what you talked him into. I imagine he will feel good and betrayed, and he'll carry that hurt around him for a long, long time."  
  
Roy spat at the Weasel and scored a hollow victory when some drops landed on the man's forehead. The Weasel just wiped them off. "I think it's time we got started." He reached down and pulled a large box from the ground and set it up on a table within Roy's sight. He opened it up to reveal a rather unpleasant number of knives and picks.   
  
In a few minutes Roy was too busy listening to his own screams to hear Ed's.  
  
  


**SCREAMS**

  
  
Ashfell watched them drag first Mustang, then Elric into the adjacent torture cells. He smiled. It really was _too bad_ that Mustang had to endure this. Really.   
  
Part of him felt guilty. Part of him really longed to protect his (master) leader, but part of him also thought that Mustang could use a good humbling before he got too cocky with his arrays.   
  
Ashfell couldn't protect him anyway. Devers wanted his pound of flesh and he was going to get it. But he didn't need to get it from the boy as well. Ashfell, opened the door to Edward's cell and motioned to the torturer. "I'll be doing this one myself."  
  
"Understood, sir."  
  
"Alone."  
  
A knowing nod and a wink. "Understood, sir."  
  
The soldier left, leaving Ashfell alone in the room with Ed. The boy – no, despite his size he'd be a man now wouldn't he – was in a sorry state. Ashfells men had worked him over pretty good, there were bruises all over his torso, his thighs and upper arms. The face had been spared. He was naked, automail uncoupled, about as vulnerable as a person could be. He lay a little funny on the slab, being that he was only held by a single wrist and ankle.   
  
The electrodes had already been attached to his hand and nipple, the specially made automail plugs had been readied but not inserted yet. The rest of the electrodes lay in a tangle on the floor.   
  
Ed glared at him. "What now," those eyes said.  _Still defiant despite his position. Remarkable._  
  
"So, tell me," said Ashfell in a quiet voice. "How well do you scream?"  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Hmmm. You will. You will have to."  
  
"I'm not going to scream for you. You can torture me, but I won't."  
  
"Oh, don't be stupid." Ashfell sighed. "Are you going to force me to actually shock you?"  
  
Those eyes widened questioningly at him.  
  
"We have an audience, they are expecting screams. Now either you can do your best acting job, or I can actually flip this switch. One way or another, you are going to make noise – enough so that my second in command next door can hear it."  
  
The start of a smile crept across Ed's face. "Since you put it that way."  
  
Ashfell grinned back. "Good. Now try it."  
  
Ed screamed. It wasn't much of a scream. "Oh, you can do better than that."  
  
Ed rolled his eyes and let out a louder scream.  
  
"That's the spirit. Now the way this is supposed to work is that I give you a shock every 30 seconds or so. Are you up for that?"  
  
"Why are we doing this?"  
  
"Electrocution is the shortest of all the torture routines we have. It's also one of the most severe. It satisfied my second in command, and it gets you and I out of here and on to better things sooner. Now, scream again… put your lungs into it."  
  
Ed did.   
  
Ashfell began removing the electrodes. "And again." Scream, with just a bit of a wail in it. The kid was getting into this. Starting to enjoy the act. Good.  
  
Ashfell undid the manacle at the kids ankle. "Again."  
  
Louder.  
  
An answering scream came through the walls.  
  
Ed jerked. "What… Is that Roy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Ed yanked his hand out of its strap before Ashfell could get it properly undone. "You mean he can HEAR us?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Ed snarled. "How dare you. He thinks I'm being hurt."  
  
"He'll learn better soon enough."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" said Ed utterly horrified. "I never would have… my God, you are a _sick_ bastard."  
  
The screams next door were more vigorous.  
  
"Stop them. Whatever they are doing to him, make them stop."  
  
"I can't." Ashfell reached into a bag and brought out the automail leg.   
  
The kid's eyes pleaded with him. Mustang moaned. Ashfell hesitated.  
  
 _This is turning into a really lousy day for all of us isn't it, kid,_ he thought. _A really first class screw up of a day, and it's not over yet._ "If I could have prevented this I would have. It will get better soon."  
  
"Please," said Ed. "Do something."  
  
Ashfells mouth was dry. "I'll… I'll see what I can do."  
  
He lined the automail leg up with the socket and thrust it in.  
  
Ed screamed.


	26. Chapter 26

**DISAPPOINTMENT**

  
  
  
Devers looked up at the unexpected noise and saw Ashfell filling the doorway. He put the knife down on the paper and wiped his hands with a moist towel. "News?"  
  
Ashfell stepped in and closed the door behind him. He only looked briefly at Mustang, jaw tightening a bit. "Not yet. Are you done here?"  
  
Devers glanced at his watch. "I figured I'd do another half hour. I've hardly started on his back."  
  
Ashfell shook his head. "I think that's good enough. The Fuhrer needs him presentable."  
  
Mustang sighed. Devers thought he saw the trace of a smile, but it could have just been an illusion.  _Getting off easy again, Mustang,_ he thought.  _Isn't that just the story of your life?_  
  
Devers felt frustrated, but he wasn't going to let it on. Truth be told, Mustang had embarrassed him. Had made him and his own look incompetent. Although he personally got no pleasure out of torture, there had been something very satisfying about being able to personally see to it that justice was done.   
  
But orders were orders. Ashfell said stop -- it was time to stop.   
  
As if Ashfell could sense his disappointment, he continued. "Get him cleaned up, I'm going to question him some. If his answers are less than forthright, you can finish up the session."  
  
Mustang definitely moaned at that.  
  
  


**ASSEMBLY**

  
  
  
The guard at the gate stopped Al with a curt word.   
  
Al's stomach dropped. He could feel Winry's hand tighten on his, but didn't dare look her way, fearing he'd lose his composure if he saw how frightened she was.  
  
Almost immediately five other guards left the building and surrounded them. They didn't touch Al or Winry, but their presence alone showed the futility of running. Where would they run to anyway? Sighing, he allowed himself to be escorted into the lab.  
  
Winry was separated from him in the lobby. He caught one last glimpse of her as he walked through the heavy doors that lead to the most secure part of the facility. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. A man held her upper arm, but he seemed to be gesturing towards the exit.  
  
Not time to panic yet. They didn't seem to be interested in Winry—that's a good sign. Maybe this is just some sort of procedure. Maybe they just wanted to question him about his brother and Mustang. That would make sense.  
  
If they suspected him, they would have arrested him… right?  
  
The elevator never seemed quite so ominous before. When he hesitated half a second, he felt a firm hand on his back between his shoulder blades, pushing him forward.  
  
"What is this about?" he asked one of the men.  
  
"Orders, sir," was the reply.  
  
The elevator went down… into the basements. It stopped on a floor Al had never been to before. The corridor was busy, packed with uniformed men, all looking grim. Everyone looked at him and he felt uncomfortably conspicuous with his escort.  
  
"That Alphonse Elric?" someone asked. "Over here." He waved with his hand.   
  
They ushered him into a room with a long bench on one end, a table and two chairs in the middle.  A large suspicious looking mirror ran the length of one wall. Al made for one of the chairs, but someone grabbed his arm and pushed him onto the bench instead. "Listen," said Al. "I don't know what this is about, could someone please tell me?"  
  
When the slim handcuffs came out Al nearly panicked. The game was up. He was being arrested. Al shook as they cuffed his hands together behind his back. When they attached one ankle to the bench he nearly threw up.   
  
"Please, just tell me what I did?" he asked.  
  
One of the men hesitated in the door. "If I knew, I'd tell you. We were just told to bring you in here and secure you. My SO will be here in a bit. Ask him."  
  
Everyone left and the door shut. Al waited on the bench with nothing but very dark thoughts to keep him company.  
  
Fifteen very long minutes later, the door opened. Ashfell walked in. He looked over at Al and nodded his head curtly as if satisfied.  
  
"What—" Al said leaning forward.  
  
Ashfell put his finger to his lips, then turned around. "Bring him in and latch him down."  
  
The room was filled with people again. Al only got a glimpse of orange between them. Then they parted and Ed shuffled on, head bowed, hair loose and disheveled. He was back in his prison uniform, his arm off and his free hand tied to a belt around his waist. Manacles hobbled his legs. Even with all that, they still had six people on him.  
  
They secured Ed to the bench as well.   
  
"What is this about?" Al asked.  
  
"You will find out in a bit, " said Ashfell and walked out the door.  
  
"You ok, Al," asked Ed after a moment, not raising his head. Al couldn't see his face through the fringe of long bangs, but his voice sounded hoarse.  
  
"I'm fine. They haven't touched me."  
  
"Winry?"  
  
"I think she's ok. I don't know. What happened?"  
  
Ed's shoulders seemed to sag.  
  
"What did they do to you?"  
  
"Nothing. They didn't do a goddamn thing to me."  
  
"What about Roy."  
  
Ed stiffened. "I begged Ashfell to make them stop, but I don't know if they did." In a tiny whisper: "Are you sure the array worked?"  
  
"Positive." Al whispered back.  
  
Ashfell returned with a bag. "This might be hard, but Ed, I'm going to ask you _not_ to scream this time. The recorders are off, and no one is in the viewing room, but we don't want the men outside coming in right now."  
  
Al's eyes widened. What was going on?  
  
Ashfell reached into the bag and brought out Ed's arm. "Don’t screw up, Ed. Al. When Devers brings Mustang in, you two are going to have to be ready to go. You are going to have to do it fast too, or we'll have half the lab on us."  
  
Ashfell quickly released Ed's manacles, then helped Ed lift up his prison shirt. Ed shrugged his shoulder free and with a practiced hand lined the automail up and pressed in.  
  
Al heard him hiss and gasp, and saw his brother bunch his white knuckled fingers into the fabric of his pants. For several long minutes no one spoke. Then finally Ed moved his automail arm for the first time. He sat up straight and flexed the fingers carefully. "It's…" he sucked in a breath. "Not as bad… as earlier…"  
  
Ashfell seemed pleased. He finally turned to Al. "How you doing, kid?" He unlocked the handcuffs.  
  
"Uh…"  
  
"Doesn't look like my guys roughed you up too bad. Good." Al suddenly felt relieved that Ashfells people had hardly even touched him. It was apparent from Ashfells attitude that he wouldn't have been surprised to have found Al beaten to a pulp.  
  
"What about Winry?"  
  
"I had my people send her home for now. Later on we can call her back if needed, but my guys are a bit riled up right now. They don't get called on high alert too often. Tends to make them a little itchy to prove themselves. It's better that she stay away."  
  
Al shuddered.  
  
"Ok, boys, here's the drill. My people _will_ be coming in and out of here to check on you two. It can't be helped. Hopefully, they will just poke their heads in, but if you look like you are up to anything they'll make a more thorough check. Ed you need to keep your arm under your shirt. We don't want anyone seeing it. Al if someone starts to come in, you’re to put your hands behind your back like you are still secured. Both of you, stay on the bench, don't talk to too much. Hopefully, this won't take too long."  
  
Ashfell surveyed the room. "This would have been a whole lot easier if Mustang didn't insist on being part of this. Ah well. Not my call."  
  
  


**REVENGE**

  
  
  
Mustang tried to separate himself from his body. It was embarrassing enough that he could hardly stand for the shaking. He wanted to pretend that the moaning wasn't coming from his lips.  
  
They dabbed his wounds with ointment and covered them over with gauze – not because they wanted to ease his suffering, but rather to prevent infection. They didn't want him sick or injured, just in pain. The Weasel explained this to him, as if he cared to know. Somehow it made it seem worse.  
  
After he put on the familiar orange suit, they lead him shuffling down the corridor to the elevator. Roy's eyes had lingered on the cell next to the one he'd been in, but the door was closed and it was quiet. He'd looked briefly at his old cell as they passed it, but there was no sign of Ed in there as well. He wondered what Edward was thinking. What could he possibly say that would make up for what he'd done? _I'm sorry_ didn't seem to come close to covering it, but anything else just sounded like he was making excuses for himself.  
  
He was surprised when the elevator moved up instead of down. As they exited, the Weasel spoke again: "Tell me, what did you say to Midnight to get him to help you?"  
  
Roy vowed to say nothing to the Weasel, no matter what the threat was.  
  
The Weasel sighed. "You don't strike me as a masochist. You will be telling us anyway, you might as well just come right out and do it." He put a hand on Roy's shoulder. It might have been companionable if it weren't for the cluster of shallow cuts right under his hand, or the way his fingers dug in.  
  
Roy hissed and shuffled forward.  
  
Ashfell greeted them in the hall. "Take him in," he said to the guard, but then put a hand out to stop the Weasel from following. "A moment –"  
  
Roy blamed the pain, but for a second, he honestly didn't know what was going on, which was why when he looked around the room and saw not only Ed but Al sitting patiently on a bench, his poker face fell apart and his jaw actually dropped.   
  
The guard seemed oblivious to his reaction, pushing him over to sit between the two brothers. He made no attempt to resist when the chain between his legs was attached to one of the supports of the bench.   
  
Neither of the brothers reacted at all to his presence until the guard left the room. Then they went into motion immediately, simultaneously, and bewilderingly.  
  
Al leaned over and whispered, "Are you ok?" He put a hand on Roy's shoulder, causing him to wince.   
  
Before Roy could answer, a flurry of movement caught his eye in the other direction. Ed had pulled his shirt up over his shoulder, revealing his automail. Then he brought his palms together and placed them on the heavy manacles binding Roy's hands. The metal dropped into Al's hands. A second later Roy's legs were freed as well.  
  
Roy felt his mind being pulled in several directions at once.  
  
 _Ed is helping me. He doesn't hate me. Why doesn't he hate me?_  
  
He has his automail back. We are back on the plan.  
  
Al is here. That must mean…  
  
The knob rattled. Ed and Al jumped up and pressed themselves flat against either side of the doorway. Roy noticed a conspiratorial grin pass between the two. Then Roy saw Ashfell stand like a gentleman against the door so that his underling could pass into the room. The door slammed shut causing the room to echo with the clang of metal against metal.  
  
It almost seemed like some oddly choreographed dance.  
  
First the Weasel looked at Roy, face calm and speculative. Professional.  
  
Then Ed grabbed his arm and began to spin him around towards himself. The Weasel's expression changed to amazement. His other arm shot up protectively.  
  
Al reached around him from behind, in what almost looked like a bear hug. Al's fingers caught the fabric of his shirt just above the belt and tugged upward just as Ed let go of the Weasel's arm and brought his palms together.  
  
Ashfell, just a second behind the other two reached into the fray and clamped one hand over the Weasels mouth. The other grabbed the nape of his neck, pinning his second in command between them. The Weasel reached up to pry the hand off his mouth.  
  
The echoes from the door died down, and Roy heard scuffling shoes, choking, and panting. A second tug pulled the shirt free revealing an expanse of pale belly. Ed pressed his hands onto the Weasels skin with such force that he coughed out a breath and both he and Al were pushed backwards a foot.  
  
Al's fingers snaked around and wiggled under his brother's hand. The skin lit again.  
  
The Weasel squirmed, his head twisting; his eyes opened wide in horror and shock.  
  
It was Roy's turn. His voice was a little louder and shriller than he wanted, but the effect was just the same. "You will obey me. Now, _be still!_ "  
  
The Weasel's brows rose and his eyes half closed in utter despair. And then he relaxed and stood. Ed released him first, stepping away and putting a hand on his automail shoulder. Then Ashfell let go of his head. The Weasel's mouth was slightly gaping and a little moist. Al let him go last, almost as if he were trying to turn what he was doing into some sort of comforting hug.   
  
The Weasel just stood, looking at Roy through the corner of his eye, waiting.  
  
Roy wanted to hurt him. Wanted to reduce him to a mindless drooling idiot. It would be easy to do it. Just a few words. He could torture the Weasel far worse than Weasel had hurt him. He could force the man to feel the most excruciating fear, or horror, or even pain he'd ever known. All it would take would be to say a few words.  
  
Roy's mouth moved, but he couldn't summon the effort to speak. The moment stretched on to the point where it was becoming awkward. Everyone was waiting for him to do something. Ed looked deeply concerned. Al looked stunned. Ashfell impatient.  
  
Roy stood up and walked over to man, carefully because every movement seemed to want to open some scratch on him somewhere. He put a hand on the Weasels shoulder and pulled his chin to bring them eye to eye. The Weasel just screwed his lids shut as if trying to negate Roy's existence.  
  
I can make him scream. I can rend his soul apart. It would be easy. And he knows it. It could even be justified, under the guise of revenge.  
  
"Look at me." The Weasel complied, staring into Roy's eyes with wide horror.   
  
Roy sighed.  _I am not an evil person. I won't lower myself to torture. I'm the bigger man._  
  
"You don't need to be scared of me," Roy said. "We are buddies, don't you remember? I'm your best friend." Just like old times. The relationship would be just as fake as back then, but Roy could live with that.  
  
A small, pained, horrified smile twitched on the Weasel's lips.


	27. Chapter 27

  
**AWKWARDNESS**  


  
  
Devers simply couldn't handle the idea that he had tortured his best friend. It made Ed's stomach clench to see the man gibbering out his apologies. Even worse was the way the looked off a thousand miles past the walls and into his own memory, trying to understand why his past emotions jibed so poorly with his present ones. In the end, Roy had to make Devers forget a large chunk of the afternoon, but after he'd done that, the man seemed to return to some semblance of normality.   
  
Ed only wished he could do the same thing – the memory of hearing Roy's tortured cries grated on his soul.  
  
Even now, it was physically painful to look at Roy. There were tiny, dark dots on Roy's prison uniform. At first Ed had thought them to be imperfections in the weave or possibly dirt. Something. But then as time passed, it became more obvious what it was. Blood, seeping up from wounds below. Roy's uniform now stuck to his skin in an unnatural way. His shoulders were the worst, then the upper thighs, but there were enough dots in other places to suggest that the injuries were far more extensive. He sat very stiffly, hardly moving at all.  
  
Ed wanted to look away. Wanted to walk out the door and go someplace where he could have a bit of space and privacy to sort out his own feelings and get a firmer grip on his composure. But that would be weak, and selfish, and childish, everything he would rather die than be.  
  
The last thing Roy needed was to have to bear Ed's discomfort on top of his own.  
  
So Ed swallowed his own emotions, looked for some way he could be supportive. He didn't even dare touch Roy for fear of hurting him. He didn't want to talk to Roy about it, because that would just remind the man of how hurt he was, and right now he seemed distracted.   
  
He thought of helpful things he could do to further the plan, but it seemed that Roy and Ashfell had it all in hand. It was all bureaucratic details at this point. Which reports to destroy, which ones to alter, who to interview, whose feelings to smooth over. Managerial details that Ed had never had to worry about, but both Roy and Ashfell were very familiar with. They didn't need his input there either.  
  
 _Never mind me while I stand in the corner and pretend to be furniture._  
  
"I would like a more comfortable place to rest," said Roy after a while. "I promised Ed he'd get a real bed to sleep in tonight. Al said there were rooms, somewhere in here."   
  
Ed could hear him biting back the pain. Even with all this, Roy was still thinking of him. Ed was almost glad Roy wasn't looking at him. He was having a hard time keeping the sympathetic wince off his face.   
  
"Of course," said Ashfell. Then he snorted a bit. "I have the perfect place… but I can't just walk you both there directly. We are all on the same page here, but my people are still riled up about you. We'll have to be a bit circumspect. After all we can't array everyone." He lifted the manacles from the floor. "I hate to do this to you." Ed doubted that.  
  
Roy just offered up his wrists and let the heavy bracelets be locked on. The legs followed.  
  
"Back on the bench you two," said Ashfell. "Devers, secure them."  
  
"Huh?" said Al. "Wait." But he didn't resist when Devers handcuffed him.  
  
Ed understood. Patience. Patience was NOT his strong suit, but if he had to, he could manage it. For Roy. He slid his shirt down over his automail and took up position on the bench again. The manacles felt heavy on his ankles. The two then took Roy by his arms and half pushed, half carried him out of the room.  
  
 _Everything was going well,_ Ed consoled himself.  _I did exactly what they needed me to._  
  
So why was it he felt like such a complete failure.  
  
  


**WORRY**

  
  
Winry did not run away from the Fifth Lab. She walked, stiffly with hands balled so tight her nails cut half circles into her palms, but nonetheless it was still a walk. Her stomach felt so hollow it hurt and she couldn't imagine ever eating again.  
  
It made no sense. They had taken Al but left her. If they knew about him, they _had_ to know about her… right? If they needed to question him, wouldn't they want to question her as well? How could they not realize that she was involved?  
  
Somehow they didn't.  
  
She could run away…  
  
… How? She'd have to show her papers at the train station. Even if they didn't figure her involvement right away, she was a conscript. She'd be AWOL, and the army really frowned on deserters. As in, usually they were shot on sight. And even if she did manage to escape and go into hiding, what point would there be without Al?  
  
This isn't the way it was supposed to work, goddamn it! She and Al were going to get married. Once the military let them go, they were going to settle down in Rush Valley, and she'd run a clinic and he'd set up an alchemy shop. They'd both live happily ever after with three kids, a dog and two cats. And their house was going to have blue curtains, damn it. Blue like her eyes. Al promised.  
  
She wasn't ready to kiss that dream goodbye.  
  
She could try break Al out. Her mind ran over the possibilities. She was sneaky, but not sneaky enough to figure a way into a heavily fortified and secure building.  
  
Then she snorted, envisioning herself with a machine gun slung across her chest and a knife in her teeth, rushing the guardhouse at the entrance to the lab. Yeah right, that would happen. Maybe Ed could pull such a thing off, with his ridiculously powerful alchemy. Frontal assaults were not her forte.   
  
That left her only one option. She could go home and hope. It was better than wandering aimlessly around the city, getting tired and lost. Her legs ached from maintaining such an awkward gait.  
  
Winry found her way back to the dorms. It was all so oddly bland and still. The MP barely gave her a glance. Angie, sitting on the floor in the hall, just waved her hand and smiled. "Back from your date early," she said. "How'd it go?"  
  
 _Plotting, enslaving, prison breaks and kidnapping – quite an afternoon, really. Date… that is an interesting thing to call it._  
  
"Fine," said Winry, trying to keep her voice normal. Angie seemed satisfied.  
  
She walked into her room and threw herself face first on the bed.   
  
God  _damn_ Roy. God damn him, stupid, smirking, asshole bastard. She and Al were doing great before he enlisted them in this half-assed venture. She hoped they were torturing him. To think how many times she'd put her ass on the line for him. She and Al had done their parts perfectly, and then the moment that prick took over, bam!  He screwed it up royally.  
  
If she ever saw him again, slave or no slave, she was going to give it to him good. She punched the mattress.  
  
The door to her room opened. Winry heard footsteps and then a throat clearing. "Private Rockbell?" asked the MP. "Ma'am, I just got a message from someone at the 5th lab."  
  
She tensed, squeezing the sheets with her fists.   
  
"Are you ok, ma'am?"  
  
Winry bit her lip. She pulled herself together and stood up. Should she fight? Should she give up? What was the point?  
  
"What do they want?" she asked in a low voice.  
  
"Here, you can read it yourself." The MP handed her the note.  
  
She took it in numb hands. "Please pick up dinner for 6 at the deli on your way back. Ed wants turkey. Love, Al."  
  
Winry closed her eyes and crushed the note to her chest.  
  
  
  


**IRONY**

  
  
Even though it hurt like hell, Roy chuckled dryly. The irony was just too perfect. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of just how ridiculously cruel the universe could be.  
  
Roy lay on a soft bed and stared out a large window. Such a beautiful view. He'd longed for months to be able to look at the world beyond the walls of his cell. Just to see trees and sky and buildings, really anything would have been the sweetest pleasure. Now he had quite a nice view of the city's skyline lit up like stars, and he would trade it in an instant for Ed's smile.  
  
Even the dark of the room itself was a fantasy come true. After living in perpetual light for months on end, the darkness felt soothing and rich to his eyes.  
  
The bed he was laying on was amazing. It was huge and unbelievably soft, like lying on a cloud. And yet he couldn't get comfortable.  
  
Last night he'd slept blissfully with Ed in a hard narrow prison cot. Even with constant risk of either rolling onto the floor or ending up with a piece of automail jabbed in a tender spot, he'd felt quite relaxed.  
  
Now he lay on a bed where he could roll almost to his heart's content. At worst he'd fall onto cushy deep pile carpet. And yet he was, pinned miserably to the spot.  
  
Roy found that as long as he was absolutely still, he hardly hurt at all. It was only when he moved, or worse, something rubbed against him, that the flaps of skin would peel back from his raw flesh and cause him to gasp. When one position grew too uncomfortable, he had to push himself stiffly off the bed, adjust his angle and then carefully lower himself again. It was almost more effort than it was worth.  
  
It was a shame that such fine sheets were getting dirtied with his blood. A bigger shame that he had no one to share them with.   
  
After they'd subdued Devers, Ed had taken up station in the corner farthest from him. When Roy dared look his direction, all he saw was awkward discomfort on the young man's face. Ed looked like he would have given up his other arm to leave the room.  
  
Roy knew he should have said something, anything, but he was tired and it just seemed easier to concentrate on the petty details Ashfell fed him. Easier to put off the inevitable worthless apologies. What was there to say?  _I promised you a soft bed and delivered torture chamber. Oops?_  
  
Yeah, how's this for equivalent exchange. I'm surrounded by everything I've desired, and all I had to do to was give up my comfort and companionship.   
  
He sighed. Irony hurt.  
  
He heard someone in the other room, and his lips tweaked up again with the fact that his new prison cell had another room. In fact it had several – it was a true apartment, with two bedrooms, a living room, even a small kitchen and dining area. Roy suspected it had been designed specifically for the Fuhrer himself. And here he was christening it with his blood.  
  
The door to his room cracked open. Roy turned his head to catch who it was. For the briefest moment he saw a small silhouette blocking the light from the other room.  
  
 _Ed?_  
  
The door closed.   
  
"Ed?" Roy called out.  
  
The door opened again. "It was dark, I thought maybe you'd gone to sleep."  
  
Roy doubted that he'd get much sleep tonight. "No. Come in."  
  
The figure walked awkwardly into the room. It was too dark to see his expression. "I have some food for you, if you are hungry."  
  
Roy's stomach sent back a loud _no!_ "That's ok." Roy carefully pulled himself back up to sitting, then eased his legs over the side of bed. He couldn't quite keep back the hissing.  
  
"You should stay still. You're hurt," said Ed.   
  
Roy knew that the moment had to be now, if he was ever to salvage anything with Ed. As lame as his words were, he needed to say them. "I'm sorry, Ed. I'm really sorry. I don't know what else I can say."  
  
There was a strange silence. Then a stranger laugh. "For what? When you said I'd sleep in a comfortable room tonight, I didn't have half … _this_ in mind." Then Ed sighed. "No. I should be the one apologizing. I hurt you today. Repeatedly. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."   
  
"You hurt me?"  
  
"I stood in that damn window and scared you out of your wits. I just wanted to know what you'd do. It was stupid and I knew it was stupid, but I did it anyway. I was being a child. There I admit it."  
  
Roy blinked. He'd forgotten all about that. Yes, it was stupid, but petty compared to what Roy had done to Ed.  
  
"And then I made things worse," Ed continued. "I didn't know you could hear. That asshole Ashfell suckered me into screaming. If I had even the slightest idea you could hear me, I wouldn't have made a sound, please believe me."  
  
Roy was aghast. "You were hurting… there is no shame in crying out. I couldn't expect you to hold it in for me…"  
  
But Ed was shaking his head. "I know there is no shame in crying out, you idiot. I wasn't hurting. I was _faking_ it. Understand. Just, please don't hate me. I really didn't know."  
  
"Faking…" Roy felt light headed.  
  
"Yes," said Ed, anguished. "I faked it. Ashfell told me that Devers was listening. He didn't tell me you could hear, that you were _supposed_ to hear. I played along with that asshole's mind games. And you got hurt. I'm sorry I was so gullible. I should have figured it out, but I guess I was stupid, because I didn't, and I'm _sorry_ already. I don't know what the hell else I can say. I'm sorry. I hurt you. Please say you forgive me. Please…"  
  
Roy stood up and closed the distance between them. "You faked it."  
  
"Oh, God, Roy, what can I say? What can I do? Give me something…"  
  
Roy felt his knees give out, and he knelt on the floor and pulled Ed close, burying his head in the young man's belly. He felt Ed tense up in surprise.  
  
"You don't have to say anything," Roy said, so relieved, so utterly, utterly relieved. "You don't have to do anything."  
  
"I don't understand," said Ed.  
  
"Faked it, " he chuckled into the cloth of Ed's prison uniform. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear those words. No idea."  
  
He could sense Ed's bewilderment, but that was fine, because he could also feel him grow softer, and bend over him to plant a careful kiss on the top of his head.


	28. Chapter 28

 

**TOO EARLY**

  
  
  
Midnight heard a key scraping in the lock of his door. His eyes jerked open immediately and whatever dreams he had disappeared. Adrenaline made his heart pound. He looked over to see Ashfell walking in, manila files under his elbow. The man reached over and flicked on the light. Midnight let out a sigh.  
  
"You could have knocked."  
  
"I did," he said.   
  
"What the hell time is it." The window was still pitch black.  
  
"Almost six am," said Ashfell, finding the coffee carafe and filling it at the sink.  
  
"Sadist," muttered Midnight. He shifted gingerly to a sitting position. His buttock still hurt, but he wasn't going to let Ashfell know that. Ashfell had probably already guessed that he was arrayed, but he didn't have to let the man know the shameful details of how or where. "Have you any idea what time I got in last night?"  
  
Ashfell didn't look his way. "Two fifty four am."  
  
"Why are you here?" Midnight asked.   
  
"I always come here about this time." The jerk was smiling.   
  
"What's the point – the project is over."  
  
"Appearances need to be maintained," said Ashfell. "Why did you come back so late?"  
  
How could Midnight explain he was savoring his freedom. For a few hours there he'd been truly cut loose. No project, no paperwork, no demands. The schedule that had been riding his ass for months had fallen apart, and even Al didn't need him. For a few hours, he didn't belong to the military, or the Fuhrer, or even Al. It was all illusion, a temporary reprieve, but it had felt good. Good to just walk out in random direction and see where it led. Good to stop and smell the roses, take in the sunset, experience the city.  
  
"You told me to get lost for a while. That's what I did."  
  
"A few hours… not half the night." Ashfell measured out the coffee and started the percolator. "Well, I suppose you have to live with it."  
  
"The crisis is over, I take it," Midnight said. "When I got back, no one was looking for me. Everything seemed in order."  
  
"Yes. Mustang's a bit worse for wear. Devers is in our camp. Everyone else is back down from high alert. Still, I wouldn't go doing anything too rash in front of the men."  
  
"Like I ever would," Midnight said.  
  
Ashfell looked at him. "No, you wouldn't."  
  
The smell of coffee began to fill the room. "Tell me. Does it bother you?" Midnight asked.  
  
Ashfell suddenly stopped in the middle of getting mugs. "Yes. A lot. I hate the bastard. Utterly. I hope he succeeds."  
  
Midnight snorted. It was odd how the array worked. "I suppose you hate me, too, for coming up with the idea."  
  
"No, I figure you got your punishment. You are in the same position as I am. Tell me, does it bother you?"  
  
 _Does what bother me? I'm not under the array._  
  
Yes, I am.  
  
No. Impossible. But Ashfell thinks I am. Maybe it's just as well he thinks that. "I don't mind." That was the truth.  
  
Ashfell laughed dryly. "Here," he tossed Midnight a file. "Your vacation is over. Clean up what you can of the project. My prisoners are going to need someone to cater to their needs, and Devers and I are busy. That leaves you."  
  
Midnight glowered. "Who left you in charge?"  
  
"I did. Our master did."  
  
 _He's not my master,_ thought Midnight, and that had the solid satisfying ring of truth to it. But it made sense to go along with Ashfell. It's what Al would want.  
  
  


 

**MEETING**

  
  
  
Ashfell chuckled as he left Midnight's room. Midnight's sadist remark wasn't too far off, he actually had taken some pleasure in forcing the man to wake up early after such a late night. Perhaps he shouldn't have. Perhaps he had lied when he said he didn't blame Midnight for the array.  _Ah well, it doesn't matter, you have to take your pleasure where you can,_  thought Ashfell.  And Midnight was an easy target.  
  
Anyway, one chore down. Midnight was in reasonably good shape, and had his orders for the day. It was time to report in to Mustang, and make sure there were no pressing needs this morning.   
  
He took the elevator up one floor and reached the "penthouse." He let himself in with the master key. The apartment was dark as well. The two were still sleeping.   
  
Ashfell clicked on the light and went to make coffee again. He didn't really feel like another cup, but he imagined Mustang would. Maybe Edward as well.  _Did the kid drink coffee?_ Maybe there was some hot cocoa somewhere in the kitchen.   
  
He was blowing the dust off a mug when he heard a voice behind him. "What time is it?" Ed asked.  
  
Ashfell looked at his watch. "Just past six thirty," he said.   
  
"Don't you ever sleep?" Ed asked. "Why the hell are you here?"  
  
Ashfell chuckled. "My day started over an hour ago. I've already had two meetings. I'm here to discuss things with Mustang. Is he awake yet?"  
  
"Roy is hurt. He needs to sleep."  
  
Ashfell looked at Ed, there was a small smear of blood on the side of his face, dried and dark. Not his own. Ashfell felt a strange sympathetic stirring. Mustang may be bleeding, but this guy's got it bad.  
  
 _At least my array is on my skin, where I can hope to take it off eventually. At least I can point to a spot and say, this is responsible for my actions, my feelings. I was forced. Poor kid, who are you going to blame when you realize what he's doing to you?  Him or yourself?_  
  
I suppose it was necessary, Ashfell realized. Mustang needed the kid to risk himself for no possible benefit. What else could he offer up in return, other than his own innate charm.  
  
Disgusting. Utterly, wretchedly disgusting. But smart.  _Thank goodness my array isn't tattooed on my heart._  
  
Ed noticed his stare. "What is it?"  
  
"You've got blood on your cheek." Ed put a hand up, feeling about. "Go ahead and take a shower," said Ashfell. "I'll get the coffee going."  
  
Roy staggered into the livingroom about the time the carafe filled. "I'd almost forgotten that smell." He lifted his head and a look of bliss settled on his face. "Has it been fourteen months since I tasted coffee? Or fifteen… I've lost track." Ashfell handed him a mug and watched in amusement as the man sipped it with utter pleasure.  
  
Ashfell pushed him on to business. "What do you wish to do about Carr? He's useless as he is."  
  
The pleasure fell off Mustang's face. "I'll need to repair the damage somehow. Maybe I should take the array off." His brow furrowed.  
  
"You are going to need some muscle to take down the Fuhrer. I wouldn't release him yet."  
  
Mustang's lips pressed together. "How many will we need?"  
  
"He always has an entourage. Even if we can separate him from most of his guards, there will still be a few. I take it you won't want him dead."  
  
"No. I need him alive. I'm _not_ going to be a fugitive at the end of this. He's going to have to give me pardon, and he's going to repair my reputation as well. How long will it take to retrieve my people from the field."  
  
"Too long," said Ashfell. "We only have five days before the visit. Arrangements like that would take weeks."  
  
"Very well, then we'll have to do it in house. How many people will we need?"  
  
"Several guards of our own to overcome the Fuhrer's men. And to slow down my own people, should they hear a commotion."  
  
"Very well. Pick them out and send them to me. I'll need Al as well, of course."  
  
Ashfell's mouth suddenly went dry. He felt his heart being pulled in two directions at once. He would of course do exactly what Mustang wanted him to. But what a thing to do to his own guys. How was he going to "pick" out someone to be arrayed? Which of his men did he wish that kind of hell on?  
  
Still, orders were orders.  
  
"Do you need anything else?" Ashfell said. "I could get you some pain medication from the infirmary."  
  
"Nothing to cloud my head… but yes. Something like that would be nice."  
  
Suddenly Ashfell felt he couldn't get out of there quick enough.  
  


 

**TENDER**

  
  
  
Ashfell was gone when Ed returned from the shower. Roy was still drinking his coffee, slowly, eyes closed.  
  
"I should take a look at your wounds," said Ed. "Clean them up a bit."  
  
Roy didn't open his eyes but he winced. "Gently."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'm sorry you know," said Roy. "I really thought I could give you a proper reward for all your work last night. I wasn't up to it."  
  
Ed shook his head in amazement. What a time to think about sex. "Don't be an idiot," he said. "I went 18 years without, I can wait a few days. Wait a minute, I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom, I'll be right back."  
  
Ed concentrated on making preparations. The dining room seemed as good an area as any to do it. The light was good, the coffee seemed to be distracting Roy, there was room to work. He found a large bowl in one of the cupboards, towels in the bathroom, antiseptic. There weren't enough bandages though. Not nearly enough.  
  
"We need to take off your shirt," Ed said. That turned out to be a more difficult project than Ed anticipated. The shirt was positively glued to his skin. It was only with great patience, water and a pair of scissors that he was able to patiently pick the shirt off without tearing open his wounds.   
  
"Damn, Roy," said Ed after a while. "I think you are going to have to wear a sheet or something until someone gets us some clothes. This is awful."  
  
"I never liked orange, " said Roy with a pained laugh. "Ah, slower."  
  
Ed carefully peeled the cloth and gauze away. "I'm sorry. I really do have to do this."  
  
"I know. Just… ah… don't expect me to enjoy it."  
  
Ed laughed. "I bet you wish you were a masochist about right now."  
  
"Sssss… And you wish you were a sadist…"  
  
"I'm surprised you didn't hurt Devers." Ed paused and started to cut the shirt off the next wound. "The man practically flayed you."  
  
"No point…. ow… you don't rise in the ranks without sacrifice."  
  
"Maybe that's why I'm still a Major."  
  
Roy reached out and gripped his hand. For second, Ed thought it was because the pain had become intolerable, and he wanted Ed to stop, but then he realized Roy was trying to comfort him. "You've done nothing but sacrifice all your life."   
  
Ed hitched in a breath.   
  
Roy let the hand go. "You are still a Major because you are an insubordinate snot."  
  
Ed let the breath go and laughed. "A snot, am I?"  
  
"Yes. Insufferable."  
  
"Well," said Ed. "I suppose I'm not much of a trophy to hang off your arm."  
  
"No," said Roy.   
  
Ed bit his lip. Of course, Roy wouldn't want to be seen in public with him. The whole situation with him and Roy was absurd. As Fuhrer, Roy would need to maintain appearances. While sexual preference was not a big issue, choice of partners was. Ed would never be the perfect, polite, and charming mate everyone would expect a Fuhrer to have.  
  
"You aren't a trophy. I would never consider you one."  
  
Ed soaked the patch of black that used to be a prison shirt. "What are we going to do?" This wasn't the time to bring up the subject, but Ed couldn't put it off anymore. He wasn't sure what Roy would say, but he had to know one way or another what would happen next. He had to gird his heart.  
  
"The plan will work."  
  
"I'm not talking about that," Ed said. "I'm talking about what will happen with us, when this is over."  
  
Roy's hands were on both of his, stopping Ed from going further. "What do you want to happen?" Roy asked.  
  
"I don't see how what I want has to do with anything." Ed let the cloth drop onto the floor. "You said you hadn't seen a woman in thirteen months, and that I was good enough. Well, you've seen a bunch of women now. Am I still good enough?"  
  
The answer was obvious:  _Of course not._  
  
Roy wasn't gay. He wasn't even bisexual the way Ed was. He liked women. He'd always like women. Ed was a convenience, a substitute, something within reach to make up for something he couldn't have. It was stupid to expect he'd ever be more than that.  
  
Roy sighed. "It's hard to overcome your past," he said. "I have a reputation, a well earned one at that, for going from person to person. Dallying with them for a while. Then moving on."  
  
Ed sighed. He could take it. It was good to know now before it got shoved in his face.  
  
"It was fun. I think I liked the conquest the best. I'd see a pretty face and I'd figure out what made her tick, what she wanted to hear. Then I'd sweep her off her feet. After a couple of weeks she'd see all my best moves, hear all my best lines, and she'd either want to go deeper, or move on, and what was left to do then? I'd let her go. Move on to someone new. Start it over again. It was a really enjoyable game, a great distraction. Stress relief. Good on my ego."  
  
Ed tried to pull his hands away, but Roy just tightened his grip.  
  
"And really immature. I'm not a twenty-year old anymore. I've had some time alone to really think about what matters. For a while I was actually relieved that there was no one out there who really missed me. Maybe my subordinates. Hawkeye and Havoc the most I suspect. But it wasn't like I'd left a wife. Someone whose life would really be impacted by my loss."  
  
Ed sighed. "What do you want, Roy?"  
  
"I'm ready to be a grown up, Ed. I know that must sound funny, but in some ways you were more of an adult at 15 than I was at 30. You were never as selfish as I have been."  
  
Roy was pulling at Ed's hands now and Ed found himself shuffling forward until he was pressed against Roy's wounded chest.   
  
"I don't know if I can promise you I'll be with you the rest of your life, because who knows what will happen. But I will say this: I love you. I have never felt this way about anyone else. You are beautiful and amazing, and I can't even find the words to express what you mean to me. You aren't just a conquest. You aren't just someone I'm with because there is no one else around. You've already heard my best lines, and I'm not done talking."  
  
Ed felt the man stroke his hair. It felt so good and Ed wanted to just drop the whole uncomfortable discussion, but he couldn't. "I'm a man, Roy." It was as simple as that.   
  
Roy laughed. "Believe it or not, I've figured that out about you already."  
  
Ed sighed. "I can't be a woman. I can't bear your children. I won't look good on your arm at state functions. It's impractical. And eventually you are going to tire of overlooking what I lack and start wanting what I can't give."  
  
Roy held him close in a way that must have been painful. "I wish I could make you believe in me. I wish I could make you see how it will all work out. I wish I could somehow make you forget about what I've done in the past. But if you can't overlook my reputation, would you at least give me a little time to prove my worth before you turn your back on me?"  
  
Ed laughed a bit bitterly and let go. It was easier to put this whole thing off anyway. He didn't want to break up with Roy. He could break his heart in a few weeks just as easily as he could break it now. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly.  
  
Roy sighed and released him.

"I believe you," Ed said.


	29. Chapter 29

**DREAMS**

****  
  
  
  
Winry snuggled her head against Al's shoulder and ran her finger lightly over his bare stomach. She would have to get out of bed soon. Shower. Put on her uniform and hurry back over to the hospital before her shift began. But she still had a few moments to savor, and these days she did. Who knew what would happen between now and shift's end.  
  
"Al, tell me about the house we are going to have," she said. "What do you think, white paint?"  
  
"No, that would be boring. I was thinking a more earthy tone. Terra cotta maybe."  
  
"Ooh, with archways? That would look exotic."  
  
"I could make us some of those." Al stroked her hair. "And we'll have a large yard in back."  
  
"I don’t know," Winry traced a circle around his belly button. "Rush valley's pretty expensive. We'd have to be making a lot of money to afford a big yard."  
  
"A big yard with a pool," insisted Al. "We'll be making tons of money. Between your clinic and my grants and contracts we'll be rich."  
  
Winry sighed. "Mmm. Sounds like we will be busy. Who's going to stay home with the kids?"  
  
"Ed will, of course," said Al, firmly.  
  
Winry rose up on her elbow. "So Ed's going to live with us now?"  
  
"Yep. How else am I going to keep him out of trouble? Don't worry, our kids will love their uncle Ed. And he can clean the house and cook."  
  
"And what about Uncle Roy? Is he gonna be living with us, too?"  
  
"No, no. Fuhrer Mustang is going to live far, far away in Central, sending me generous research grants."  
  
Winry sat up and slid out of bed. "Well, now that hardly seems fair, Al. Having Ed all alone with our kids. And you know, maybe you should be worried I might have an affair with him, while you are so busy with those contracts."  
  
Al stretched. "Nah, it's more likely Ed will be having an affair with the pool boy."  
  
"So now we have a pool boy?"  
  
"Of course." Al swung his feet out of bed and ran his fingers through his own hair. "Gotta keep my birthday present busy you know."  
  
Winry laughed. "Midnight's going to be our pool boy? Somehow I don't think he'll be that interested having an affair with Ed, though. He doesn't seem the type."  
  
"He's the type if I say he is," said Al.  
  
Winry felt suddenly sick. "You know, this isn't funny anymore."  
  
"Yeah," said Al. "It kind of stopped being funny a little bit ago."  
  
Winry left him to take a shower. When she returned he was dressed and his hair fixed back in its low ponytail. "You know, I love your brother and all, but I'm not sure I want to live with him. And really who he dates should be his own business."  
  
"He can live next door. And I honestly can't believe you are defending Roy, Winry. Look at them, he's so, so, _old._ And hell, look at what he got us doing. I'd like to think I am smart, but man, most mornings I wake up and want to smack myself in the head. Why am I doing this? The answer always comes back: because Roy talked me into it."  
  
Winry paused in shrugging on her pants. "Honestly, I can't believe I'm defending him myself. But you know, there are a lot of people out there who wouldn't approve of us either. They would say we were too young and didn't know what we were doing."  
  
"We've never been young," said Al. "It's not the same."  
  
"Maybe. But it's not our business who Ed wants to date either."  
  
Winry grabbed Al's brush off the end table and ran it through her hair. "What are you up to today?" she asked.  
  
"Helping Roy enslave people." Al grabbed Winry's shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. "Now remind me why I'm a good guy, Winry. Because, honestly, I think I've forgotten."  
  
  
 ****

**ONE MORE**

****  
  
  
"Just one more," said Roy putting a hand on Al's shoulder. "And then we'll be done."  
  
"That's what you said yesterday." Al looked over to where Ed was sitting, a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth and the blueprints of the 5th lab spread across his lap.   
  
"This time I mean it. Just one more."  
  
"Maybe two, " said Ed, removing the toast.  
  
"Brother!"  
  
Ed looked up innocently. "Ok, one. But Al, it's not like these guys are going to stay this way. It's only for two more days and then I'm taking all the arrays off. And anyway, we barely need to touch their minds. Just reset their loyalties, and off they go to do their job like normal."  
  
"One more," said Al. "And it's easy to say that when you aren't involved."  
  
"Roy fixed Carr. The others are all fine. And anyway, they knew they were giving up their freedom when they signed on to the military. Roy is making sure that none of them are conscripts. You aren't having trouble with Midnight are you?"  
  
Al thought briefly of Andrew. The man seemed happy enough, but there was a slight twitchiness about him that was bothersome. Lately, Midnight had taken to disappearing whenever given permission. For a man who had been so driven to his job before, it seemed a rather severe departure.  
  
But anyway, that wasn't something to trouble Ed with. "They didn't sign on to have their souls messed with."  
  
"Al," said Roy. "I understand your feelings. Believe me, I know exactly what you are going through. But there is no point in carrying more guilt than you need to. Feeling awful about something you have to do doesn't make the job any easier. Your pain doesn't lessen anyone else's. We need enough people on our side to overwhelm the others. If we don't have enough we put everyone in more danger than need be, and that includes the people we've already recruited. We don't have time to gather allies any other way."  
  
"Recruited. That's an interesting term for it, Roy." But Al felt his self-hatred begin to waver.  
  
"Recruited," said Roy firmly. "Like you were recruited."  
  
"Not quite."  
  
"I see, so how much descretion do you have in your actions right now. Can you choose what job you want? Can you quit? And really, were you given much of a chance to refuse in the first place? At least these people signed up to be in the military of their own free will."  
  
Al didn't say anything.  
  
"Sometimes during war, you have to order men to do dangerous things. Sometimes you have to ask them to do things that are all but suicidal. Compared to being on the Front, what we have in mind is nothing. And compared to being kidnapped off the street, never allowed to say good bye to your loved ones and sent off, ill prepared into battle, our recruits have it good." Roy's hand patted his back. "Let it go. You were able to do that for the rats and the dogs, you can do it for this as well."  
  
Al sighed.   
  
There was a knock on the door, and Ed and Roy quickly retreated to the other room. Wearily Al opened the door and saw a young woman in uniform. "The Major sent me up here, said I was needed for something." She was trying to cover up her curiosity but failing miserably.  
  
"Come on in, soldier," said Al ushering her in. And while her eyes were glued to the picture window at the far end of the room, Al quietly closed and locked the door behind her.  
  
 ****

**SLIP**

****  
  
"Colonel Dunn," said Sgt. Cotes over the intercom. "Fuhrer Goddard, sir, line one."  
  
Unlike Fuhrer Bradley, Fuhrer Goddard didn't live in Central, but some ways North at the much smaller city of Dunsk, where Parliament met three quarters of the year. Though he brought an escort with him, he always required more: Drivers for himself and his entourage, a concierge, and, for lack of a better word, servants to fetch and cater to the whims of not only the man himself but everyone in his party.  
  
And coming up with soldiers to fit the bill was no easy task either. This Fuhrer was amazingly finicky. He required those under him to follow his directions with such perfection it almost required a psychic bond. While those in his entourage had learned all the Fuhrers quirks and quibbles, the people Dunn needed to assign did not. After the last visit, every single one of those he'd assigned to the Fuhrer had requested they NOT be considered again when the next time came up.  
  
Dunn quickly lifted the receiver and hit the button. "Sir, what may I do for you?"  
  
There was the faint crackle and hiss that came with field phones, but the voice on the other end was deep and somewhat jovial. "Avery, good to hear your voice. Just wanted to check in with you and make sure everything is fine for tomorrow."  
  
Avery quickly opened his filing cabinet, and began pulling out files with one hand. "Yes, sir. Everything is fine. I'm assembling your security detail as we speak. There are quarters set up at the 5th lab itself. May I ask, sir, how long you expect to be here this time?"  
  
"I'm not sure myself."  
  
That wasn't helpful.  
  
"And in your party, sir, how many will you have this time?"  
  
"I'm traveling light today, there will only be five with me. They will need housing as well."  
  
Avery sighed in relief. The 5th lab could accommodate that number of people.   
  
"However, I will require an extra number of security this time. I want your best people. Seasoned only, Avery. No conscripts."  
  
Avery gritted his teeth. That would mean calling upon some of the people who had begged not to be involved again. And he'd have to soothe the feelings of not only the soldiers, but the staff that generally relied upon them. Some of the colonels and generals took it seriously amiss when they found their best men assigned out from under them, and Dunn's lower rank often made the phone calls rather awkward.  
  
However he could understand the Fuhrer's need. Considering the ruckus last week, extra security would be expected.  
  
"Of course," said Dunn as smoothly as he could. "I'll give you the best Central has to offer. Though I highly doubt there will be anymore security lapses."  
  
There was a moment of silence. "Security lapses?"  
  
Suddenly Dunn felt his stomach clench. The Fuhrer didn't know about the break out. Well of course, Ashfell wouldn't want the Fuhrer to know about it if there was anyway to avoid it. The man had some sense. Fuhrer Goddard's scathing tongue and even more severe punishments were well known. Ashfell would be lucky to get by with just a reprimand on his record. Goddard frequently dropped ranks on those who failed him.  
  
In any case, all had been smooth at the lab for 5 days now. As spectacular as that security failure was, it was not going to repeat, and there was no point in bringing it up. "It was really nothing sir. Some minor equipment malfunctions," Dunn lied as slickly as he could.  
  
"I see. Well then. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."  
  
"And I you," Dunn lied again. He put the receiver back into its cradle and wiped the sweat from his brow. Ashfell would be furious with him.   
  
  
 ****

**LEFT OUT**

****  
  
  
Winry was relieved when she returned to the 5th lab after her shift ended. The soldier at the gate waved her through with a friendly smile, "Nice to see you Rockbell, you look nice tonight."  
  
"Thanks!"  She flirted automatically. Then -- she couldn't help it -- she pried. "Boring day?" Of course it was, this guy was still smiling. Dumb question. If anything had happened, it would be obvious.  
  
"The pits. Tomorrow should be interesting -- the Fuhrer comes in. Won't be able to let you come in, though."  
  
"You won't?" Winry's stomach tensed.   
  
"Nah, the place will be locked down for the duration of the visit. No visitors. It's a security precaution."  
  
This was something she needed to talk to Al about. Talk to someone about. Though she was terrified, she was also determined not to be left out. This wouldn't do. She was in this from the beginning, she would see it through to the end.   
  
She gritted her teeth through the pat down. She had nothing in her coat these days, nor her shoes. She should have felt more relaxed about it, but instead she felt a strong wave of fear that somehow the soldier would find some evidence against her. She had been so blasé when this first started. Now she was paranoid. In a few hours, less than a full day, everything she loved, all her hopes and dreams could be taken away forever.  
  
Then they let her through. "He's in his room," said the guard at the security door before buzzing her in. These days they didn't make her wait for Al.  
  
She stepped out of the elevator and walked down the cool carpeted hall to Al's room, knocked twice and waited.  
  
The door opened.  
  
Al looked harried and distracted. Winry cuddled in close but he seemed unusually stiff. "Two more today. They keep saying they are done and then they give me more. Come on in."  
  
"I was hoping we could go out to dinner tonight," said Winry. "I have some money from the last paycheck, and… well… we never really did celebrate your birthday and…"  _We may never get another chance_ was the rest of the sentence but she couldn't say it. If she said it, it might make it come true.   
  
"I'm not really in the mood," said Al, then saw the look on her face. "Oh, all right. I suppose we have to eat somewhere." He walked over to where his uniform jacket was draped over the back of the chair.  
  
"Before we go, I think I need to talk to Roy."  
  
Al hesitated. "About what. He's really busy planning for tomorrow."  
  
"I know. And don't even have a clue what you guys are doing. And that bothers me."  
  
Al cocked his head. "Why?"  
  
"Where am I in this, Al? What am I going to be doing?"  
  
"You are going to be at work making people's arms and legs," said Al firmly. "It's going to be dangerous over here. If things don't go down well, I'd feel a lot better knowing you at least were safe."  
  
Winry's heart grew cold. "Well, that's awfully nice for you, but what about me?"  
  
Al touched his chest, "I have to be here. There's no choice. I'm the only one who can do this thing."  
  
Winry rolled her head. Al could be a dolt sometimes. "I _know_ that! But you aren't keeping me safe. Al, if you go down, I go down. Just being in another building isn't going to save me. They will figure it out fast, and I'll be executed."  
  
She reached over and grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I was in this _before_ you were. Who took the first risk? _I_ did. I stole the first piece of equipment. I lied. I walked through security day after day risking my butt for this. And you want me to sit out the end? So what? So that I can be helpless and worried and not know what is going on? So that I have no say in my own fate? At least if I'm here, I can throw a punch at someone if they get out of line. And I heard from a well informed source that I throw a mean punch."  
  
"Winry, they aren't going to be throwing punches. They are going to be shooting bullets."  
  
"I can handle a gun," said Winry firmly.  
  
"Could you kill someone with it?"  
  
"If it meant saving you, yes, in a heartbeat."  
  
"Really," said Al, doubtfully. "Because I'm not sure I could sacrifice one life for another."  
  
"Well, then," said Winry, smiling bitterly, "I guess that makes me the better soldier after all. Because, yeah. I could."  
  
Winry pulled him closer and rested her chin on his shoulder. It felt good to be there. "Give me a job. Any job. I'll do it. Just don't make me wait on the sidelines. I think that would kill me."


	30. Chapter 30

  
**CLOSE CALL**  


  
  
Winry slipped the scalpel through the seam of her jacket.  _One last time,_  she thought, _poor baby. One last time and I'll never have to do this to you again._  
  
Five bottles this time, lined up on the desk. Chloroform. Useful for minor surgery. Easily administered. Toxic in large doses, but large doses weren't needed. Just speed and effectiveness, and silence.  
  
No one had to die, Roy promised. And Winry was relieved because despite what she asserted to Al, she  _wasn't_  sure she could pull the trigger. She had no problems drugging people, though.  
  
She pushed the first bottle into the lumpy insulation of her jacket, manipulating it through the fabric until it rested on the far side. She didn't want the bottles accidentally touching each other and clinking, or worse breaking. That would be embarrassing. And deadly.  
  
She pushed the second bottle in.  
  
A hand flew past her arm and grabbed a bottle off her desk. Winry let out a shriek and spun around.  
  
"Winry!" said Angie, her face contorted in dismay and disgust. " _You_ are the one? You are the person selling off our supplies?"  
  
Winry grabbed Angie's hand. Angie pulled away and stepped back towards the door. "No. This isn't – Angie, please. Just hold a moment before you tell someone."  
  
Angie's eyes narrowed and she shook her head as if to negate the situation. "Winry we _needed_ those drugs. You know how people have suffered!"  
  
"I didn't take them," hissed Winry, hoping her earlier cry wouldn't bring anyone else in. "You have to believe me. I've never stolen a drop of morphine or antibiotic."  
  
"So you say this is the first time?"  
  
Should I lie? I'm not a good liar. "No, I took a bottle of GHB."  
  
"The date rape drug?" Angie looked at the bottle in her hand. "Anesthetics? What are you up to?"  
  
"Angie," said Winry pleading with her eyes as best she could. "Give me one day. One day, that's all. This will never happen again. I took Mr. Sugar off your hands. You owe me twenty-four measly hours. Please."  
  
Angie held her breath a moment. "No, I'm not going to rat you out. You are one of the good people here. Just please don't do this. I don't want you thrown in jail. If you need money, talk to me about it, maybe some of the other girls and I can do something."  
  
Winry clutched her chest. "Thank you. Thank you." She then held out her hand. "I have to, Angie.  People are counting on me.  Lives are at stake."  
  
Angie looked at the bottle. "Do I want to know what you are up to?" she asked.  
  
"No you really, really don't."  
  
"Wipe my prints off," said Angie. She handed back the bottle. Winry made a show of it, then pushed it into her coat.  
  
Angie shook her head and walked away.  
  
Winry hurried through the rest of her preparations and sewed the seam of her coat crudely closed. Her hand was shaking too hard. Anyone looking at her coat would see that cut. Oh god it was so obvious.  
  
She nearly went through the roof when the MP walked into her room. "I have a message for you, Rockbell." He saw her face, drained of color. "Are you ok?"  
  
"I'm fine," she mustered. She grabbed the message, her heart hammering holes in her chest. She almost couldn't read the words.  
  
It was from Ashfell: "Winry Rockbell's assistance is requested at the 5th lab ASAP."  
  
"You better go quickly," the MP suggested. "They aren't the kind to piss off."  
  
She nodded weakly.  
  
Never did the six blocks seem so long. Her coat clinked despite her efforts. She didn't know if stopping and re-adjusting was the way to go, or if that would just make her look more suspicious. In the end she chose to keep walking forward and pretend she didn't hear the ominous sound of glass on glass.  
  
She arrived at the gate feeling flustered and sweaty. Here it goes.   
  
"I have a note," she said weakly, handing out the phone message to the rather sharp looking soldier. His gun, for once, was slung at the ready, rather than laid casually in the corner of his hut. He looked over the message, then called on his phone. His gun aimed in her general direction.  
  
Winry imagined her coat clinked as she backed up involuntarily. She fought the urge to stick her hands in her coat. That would be too threatening. She left them out at her sides. No sudden moves.  
  
"Yessir," the soldier said into the phone, then ushered her forward with the gun. "Follow directions. Don't go anywhere you aren't specifically told to." Winry turned to go, but then felt a hand on her arm. "You'll need this," the soldier said, and gave her a bright green badge that said VISITOR. "Wear this at all times."  
  
One hurdle down. The next was only a few short steps away through the heavy double doors, and at this point there was no avoiding it. It was too late to run.  
  
She grimly walked up to the security desk inside the lobby of the building. She'd done this so many, many times, but never in all that were there TWO guards manning that station.   
  
She took off her coat and balled it up on the desk the way she had every other time. She recognized the guards, but they looked different this time. The lines of their faces were hard. Their eyes were sharp. One reached and inspected the visitor's badge around her neck, flipping it over. The other…  
  
The other went for her coat, lifting it up and putting his hands in the pockets. Feeling around in the insulation.  
  
Winry couldn't breathe. The first guard's hands on her were hard and unyielding, pressing against her sides, under her breasts, down her legs. She gritted her teeth and tried to keep her expression blank. He finished patting her down and stepped back with a nod. "She's clean."   
  
He noticed Winry's ragged breathing. "Didn't mean to get you hot," he suddenly cracked.   
  
Winry's breath stopped.  
  
 _Oh my god… he's coming on to me!_ She couldn't help herself; she let out an embarrassing whoop of a laugh. With every fiber of her being she latched onto the act of this being a casual flirt. "That was quite a pat down."  
  
"I aim to please," he smirked.  
  
The other soldier gave her coat one last squeeze, then handed it back to her. "There you go, Private Rockbell. You are expected upstairs."  
  
She took the jacket with complete disjointed astonishment. The soldier _must_ have felt the bottles in there. Yet his face was blank.   
  
 _Arrayed. Had to be. Only possible explanation._  
  
My god, this place was like a minefield. Who were on her side and who weren't? The arrayed guard gave her absolutely no indication he was in on the conspiracy. He led her past the heavy security doors and to the elevators in an efficient manner, never once smiling or reassuring her in any way. Not even a glimmer of connection in his eyes.   
  
Maybe he had just missed the bottles – but _how?_  
  
She let him press the button that lead to Al's floor. She walked down the hall to his room by herself.  
  
Al opened the door and she threw her hands around him. After a moment, he pushed her back. "Are you sure you want to be here?" he said. "There is still time…"  
  
"I'm here," said Winry with more conviction than she felt. "We are doing this together."  
  
Al smiled and led her farther into the apartment.  
  
  


**ARRIVAL**

  
  
Midnight ran his hands down the sides of his dress uniform, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. It was a cold morning, but he felt uncomfortably warm, and he hoped that he wasn't sweating visibly. The military train was late. Why did that surprise him?  
  
He looked at his pocket watch. Alchemical amplifier, phooey. The only thing he'd ever used it for was to tell time, and while it did a good enough job of that, so would any other watch. Was it worth it? For years his name and position had been everything for him, but in the last couple of weeks he found himself wishing people would just call him Andrew Gardener. His job, which had been his pride and joy, had come to feel like a noose around his head.  
  
 _After this is over, I'm requesting a vacation,_ he thought.  _I'm not built to handle this kind of stress._  
  
The Fuhrer wasn't going to make it any easier, either. Midnight found himself remembering Bradley fondly. That Fuhrer had ignored him except for friendly greetings in the halls. This Fuhrer just wouldn't let up.  
  
Fuhrer Bradley also had the reputation for winning his wars, and never biting off more in conflict than he had the manpower to win. Goddard thought he could do Bradley one better. This miserable, unwinnable war was pure hubris.  
  
But no one dared say that to Goddard's face. Those who opposed Goddard had an alarming tendency to change their minds fast or disappear.  
  
Would it be unmanly to run away?  
  
The train finally pulled into the station, filling the air with steam and the smell of grease and soot. Midnight waved a hand in front of his face to clear his vision, and then focused on the sea of uniforms that spilled from the doorways. Most had passed him by when the doors to the officers car opened up and the Fuhrer's entourage finally emerged. Four dour looking men and a rather attractive woman exited, speaking somberly to each other. Two wore military uniforms, ranking generals, the rest civilian clothes of the latest and most expensive cut. Then the Fuhrer himself emerged, stiffly climbing down onto the platform.  
  
Fuhrer Goddard didn't smile when his eyes met Midnight's. Midnight didn't expect him to, and was just as glad he didn't. The Fuhrer's smiles usually came with unreasonable demands attached.  
  
"Well there, Midnight," he said. "That train ride was very long. Where are my drivers and security." He scanned about the platform.  
  
"Over here, sir," said Midnight quickly and gestured towards a line of stiff looking men.  
  
Goddard scanned the row. "After a long ride, a man of my position would like something easy to rest his eyes on, but I guess this will have to do. What an ugly lot. Avery has no sense of aesthetics." He walked the line and nitpicked the poor men. Boots were not shiny enough. A collar was fractionally askew. Midnight knew it was all bullshit. There was not a hair out of place on this lot. He felt a little guilty that he was glad this treatment wasn't aimed at him.  
  
That thought turned out to be premature. "You're letting your hair get too long, Midnight," said the Fuhrer. "Some men can pull it off, but not you. It looks sloppy."  
  
There was no point in saying anything but, "Yes, sir." The Fuhrer looked slightly disappointed when Midnight didn't defend himself, but let it pass. "The car is this way."  
  
It would take three cars to bring his entire entourage to the fifth laboratory. The Fuhrer and the pretty woman and Midnight were slated for one car. The other 4 of his group were placed in another car with a single guard. The last vehicle was a larger truck where the rest of the security went.  
  
The Fuhrer seemed only a bit put off when one of the vehicles failed to arrive at the 5th lab. The four of the Fuhrer's entourage would be stuck at the side of the road for a while. Midnight wished it could have been the truck carrying security, but that would arouse too much suspicion.  
  
Ashfell met them at the doors and ushered the Fuhrer and his guest quickly past security.  
  
The Fuhrer looked the place over. "Is this building structurally sound?" he asked.  
  
"Yes sir," Ashfell said. "It's passed inspection."  
  
"That may be, but I'm not staying here any longer than I have to."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Midnight's heart hammered. The idea had been to take the Fuhrer to his apartment first. That is where the take down would happen… That's where Ed, Roy, and Al were. That's where the arrayed security were positioned. But if the Fuhrer wasn't going to be staying…  
  
"Ashfell," continued the Fuhrer, "Look up the mechanic who serviced that other car and send him to Avery for demotion and transferal. He obviously has no skill."   
  
"Yes, sir." Ashfell reached for the up button on the elevator, but the Fuhrer put his hand on Ashfell's. "The prisoner is kept in the basement is he not?"  
  
"Yes, but, I figured you'd want to freshen up first."  
  
"Don't assume things about me," said Goddard.  
  
"I…" Ashfell suddenly nodded. "Of course. The basement it is." He pressed the button going down.  
  
Midnight was suddenly very aware of how many armed men were pressed around him.  
  
  


**PLAN B**

  
  
Devers smiled at Winry. She was a good girl, a bit on the young side, but pretty and smart. A little jumpy, but that was to be expected.  
  
He felt calm enough, and that was a little surprising considering what was going on. But that was the way the arrays worked, he supposed. This was a take down, just the way last week had been a take down. Only this one was a bit more complicated.  
  
Winry took to her job like a natural, memorizing the communications board quickly enough. She had the headphones hooked over one ear and off the other so that she could hear him and still monitor the various microphones around the building.  
  
This was the heart of the building. Its inner sanctum. Its most secure spot. This is where all the wires ultimately led. The two who were scheduled to man the equipment had been arrayed and sent up to Al's room to await the Fuhrer. Devers and Winry were alone. Under other circumstances...  
  
Only one man had seen him bring Winry in, and that had caused a hairy moment. The excuse that he was training Winry on the equipment was a lame one. The unspoken implication that he was using it as a make out spot during the Fuhrer's visit was even more out of character. The last thing he needed was his own unarrayed men and women jumpy and on edge about his behavior, but it couldn't be helped.   
  
"Are you sure you want to be doing this, sir?" his underling had asked in a very hesitant voice. "This is a really bad time…" The man recognized Winry as Al's girlfriend. "And, if you excuse me, a bad choice."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I take full responsibility for my actions."  
  
In the end loyalty won out over both propriety and good sense, but only barely. Devers suspected if the man had any idea that the arrays existed, he would have been pressing the panic button and everything would have been lost. But thankfully even the notion of a slavery array was beyond that soldier's imagination.  
  
Winry's voice brought Devers back to the present. "Here they are," she said, pointing to the outside camera. Devers saw the black car pull up at the front gate. Midnight exited first and nodded at the camera. Then came the Fuhrer and a woman.  
  
Dever's leaned forward and spoke into the comm. "Big Fish sited. Are we a-go?"  
  
"Corridor, go," came one voice.  
  
"Lobby, go," came another.  
  
"We're good here," came Edward Elric's voice from the Fuhrer's apartment.  
  
The rest of the conspirators called in their readiness.  
  
Devers watched the Fuhrer walk through the security down to the elevator. Winry suddenly let out a gasp. "They are going _down_ not up." She met Devers eyes.   
  
Dever felt a moment of panic. They had a man down there just in case, but one man against -- Dever's counted -- five security plus the Fuhrer. Ashfell and Midnight would help, but, it was not a fair fight.  
  
The rest of the security were heading to the stairs…  
  
Not good. Not good.  
  
Devers grabbed the comm. "Big fish going _down_. Plan B. Five on stairway."  
  
His hands then jumped for the circuits.  
  
Winry was right with him, tools and fingers in the wires. "Alarms cut," she said.  
  
Half a second later, Devers flipped the switches, for the elevator and power for the fourth basement level. There was no camera in the elevator itself, but one mounted at the top of the shaft registered the elevator car shake and stop.  
  
The camera mounted on the 4th floor corridor went dead; the security door locked down.  
  
They needed time and they would get it, but at a cost.  
  
Any hope of surprise was lost.  
  
When he allowed the elevator to open, it would disgorge guards armed and ready to shoot. The only question left was how well sound traveled, and if the bullets would bring the rest of his men down or not.  
  
Devers' eyes met Winry's. Even with the array, Devers was afraid.


	31. Chapter 31

**INTRUSION**

****  
  
Al felt at loose ends. His body was tensed for a fight, but as the minutes passed and no fight appeared, he began to feel simply exhausted. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl.  
  
Everyone had a job to do. Weapons to check, perimeters to stake out, equipment to monitor, and he was left to sit on the edge of his bed in his room trying not to get in anyone's way. Even Winry had more to do with him, and arguably she didn't even have to be there.  
  
He wasn't needed anywhere.  
  
Al had argued for a job. He could be a look out. He could be one of the people to subdue the security. Hell he was a pretty good fighter – maybe not quite up to Ed, but a hell of a lot better than, say, Midnight. He wasn't a wimp. He wasn't stupid. He was useful dammit!  
  
"Stay in your room until we've got the situation under control," said Roy. "Then we'll call you down."  
  
Al glanced at his watch for the third time in two minutes.  
  
Screw this.  
  
 _I can hide in a closet in Roy's room. This sitting all alone doing nothing is crap. I can at least talk to Ed, then. Yeah, Ed should be just about as bored as I am right now._  
  
Al headed out the door. The arrayed security hardly even glanced at him. He reached the end of the hall and knocked on the door to Roy and Ed's apartment. It cracked open, and one of Roy's minions peeked out. The door opened fully.  
  
"Where's Ed," asked Al.  
  
"He's in the bedroom."  
  
Al walked in. The living room, which had until last night been used as their headquarters, was now clean and bare. All signs of use swept away. The Fuhrer would walk in and see nothing out of the ordinary until the trap was sprung.  
  
Al walked back and opened the door to the master bedroom without knocking. His eyes caught movement and he stopped in his tracks.  
  
Roy and Ed, dressed in military uniforms, were sitting on the bed together, arms around each other, locked in a passionate kiss.  
  
Al's throat went dry.  
  
He knew Ed was sleeping with Roy. He'd known if for weeks, but until this point he'd never actually seen any hint of their relationship. They had never held hands, or kissed, or even used affectionate names in front of him. Once he'd seen Roy put his arm around Ed's shoulders, but that could just be considered companionable. Friends did that kind of thing.  
  
Friends didn't kiss like this.  
  
Al turned away, blushing. His vision of Ed happily living in the house next door cracked and fell apart. Ed would be with Roy, wherever Roy eventually settled. Ed was already gone.  
  
How had it happened? When had it happened? When had the team of Al and Ed broken apart? Was it when Roy seduced Ed? Or when Al was conscripted? Or was it even further back than that? Had he himself started this downward spiral when he and Winry started dating? Or maybe this was just an inevitable part of growing up and it would have happened regardless of what either of them did.  
  
 _No. I want him back. I don't want him with Roy. I want him with me! He gave up years of his life for my sake, giving up Roy should be an easy sacrifice.  
  
But would I give up Winry for him? _ Al covered his face with his hand.  _Of course not.  
I'm selfish. I want both. _  
  
"Is there anything you need, Al?" asked Roy in a slightly annoyed voice.   
  
"I'm sorry," said Al. "I should have knocked." He glanced back at his brother and the ex-Colonel. They were still sitting next to each other, but no longer romantically entwined.   
  
"You should go back and wait in your room. It won't be long now. Unless there is something I can do for you."  
  
How childish would it be to say he was lonely and stressed out and he wanted company.  
  
The radio squawked, Big Fish was in the building. Ed grabbed the handset and called in, then set it back down on the bureau. "It might be more convenient to let him stay here," he told Roy, reaching over and running his flesh hand through Roy's stiff hair.  
  
Roy hesitated, then relented. "Hide behind the bed then, Al. Absolutely no heroics on your part, you are the only one who can do this. Without you, we are screwed."  
  
Relieved, Al crouched behind the bed, out of sight of the door.  
  
The radio hissed again. "Big Fish Going DOWN. Plan B. Five on stairway."  
  
Oh God, that meant that the Fuhrer was headed to the jail cell rather than coming to his room first. They had known this would be a possibility, but there was no way to really set things up for that scenario. They would have to take risks and play it by ear.  
  
Roy jumped up. "Al, Ed, come with me." He scooped up the radio. "Corridor, Rooms, plan B, Head to the stairways. Devers keep them in the elevator until I say go."  
  
"Power has been cut to the elevator and sub 4," came Dever's reply.  
  
Al followed Roy out into the living room and then into the hall. Suddenly Roy stopped and grabbed him hard by the shoulder. "Stay behind us. DON'T engage the enemy. Do you understand."  
  
Al pulled his shoulder away irritated. "You don't have to protect me. I know what I'm doing."  
  
Ed threw an arm around him "We know that Al. Just, stay safe."  
  
" _You_ stay safe, Ed," said Al.   
  
The security were already in the hall, filing into the stairwell. Al did as he was told and stayed back, behind everyone else, and kept close to the wall and out of the line of fire. Ed bounded ahead jumping the railing to the landing below, then repeating until he was out of sight. The noise of footsteps echoed painfully off the concrete.  
  
A moment later Al heard the first sounds of conflict. Roy stood on the landing below him, back to the wall, staring up at him with a hand held out. Wait.  
  
Gun shots. Cries. The light of alchemy bounced off the walls. Thuds and muffled grunts. Shots again, and then finally quiet.   
  
No sound but the hammering of Al's heart against his ribs.  
  
  
  
 ****

**STAND OFF**

****  
  
  
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop and the lights flickered and turned an eerie red. For a moment everyone in the crowded car just looked up and around. "The power is out, sir," said one of the security.  
  
Midnight looked between the shoulders of the guards at the Fuhrer. The man's eyes were narrowed and he was staring at Ashfell. "Security," he said in a cold voice.  
  
"Yessir!"  
  
"Shoot Major Ashfell."  
  
Midnight gaped.  
  
Thankfully the security didn't immediately carry out the Fuhrer's orders.  
  
"Sir?" said one of them. "It's a power outage…"  
  
The Fuhrer clicked his tongue. "I understand perfectly what is going on. I ordered you to shoot him."  
  
"It's too crowded in here, Sir. Someone else could get hurt."  
  
"Sir, please," said Ashfell, his voice tight with fear. "That seems… that seems a bit harsh. What have I done?" Ashfell's legendary composure had fallen apart. For some reason seeing Ashfell afraid was far more terrifying than anything the Fuhrer had ever said or implied to Midnight. It was positively ugly. It was wrong.  
  
"He got to you didn't he, this is a trap." The Fuhrer backed himself further into a corner. "Men, I said _shoot_ him!"  
  
"Sir," said one of the security. "I'm afraid we aren't authorized to summarily execute someone without a direct threat being made to you."  
  
"Oh, he's threatening me alright." The Fuhrer's eyes looked around between the men crammed in the elevator. "Did that bastard get the guards too? Are they all under an array? How many are part of this?" It was getting hot the elevator and the air had become rather stale.  
  
The Fuhrer's eyes suddenly focused on Midnight. The alchemist couldn't move. "Did you do this for him? When did you decide to join his side? Or did one of them get an array on you as well?"  
  
"Sir," Midnight said. "You are wrong, this is just a power failure, nothing more."  
  
"Don't insult my intelligence, Midnight. You don't want me dead, I know that much. You'd all be executed if I died. I know what you are up to, and you know I know what you are up to. So why don't we just end this charade.  
  
"Ashfell, there is no excuse for letting yourself come under that array. You knew better. Midnight I excuse you. You can't help your gullible nature. I knew that was a risk when I gave you this responsibility. I'm disappointed in you, but if you aid me, I won't seek your execution. You will have your certification stripped, and you'll be demoted, but I'll make sure your sentence is light."  
  
He turned to the bewildered security. "And as for you lot, I ordered that you shoot this man and none of you have complied. You need nothing more than my word. Shoot him! NOW!"  
  
Hesitantly one of the security unholstered his gun and then pressed it up against the side of Ashfell's head. Midnight could see the man's hands shaking a bit. Ashfell had his hands up in surrender. He wasn't doing anything the least bit threatening.  
  
 _Cooperate and I'll get off. Fight and I'll get shot now. Live… not live…  
  
Al.  
  
If we fail, Al will be executed.  
  
No._  
  
Midnight touched the array on his belt.  
  
Five people were a lot to encompass at one time. It took all of his concentration, but he was rewarded to see every one of the security mens eyes become suddenly very reflective. The Fuhrer growled and tried to grab him, but there were two bodies between them.   
  
Midnight was already at the limit of his capacity; he wasn't going to be able to hold this for long, but with just a bit more effort...  
  
The Fuhrer's eyes started glowing red in reflected light. It seemed oddly appropriate.  
  
Midnight noticed one of the security drop to the floor. Then another. Midnight had to keep concentrating but he managed to see what Ashfell was doing. The man had a handkerchief in his hand and he was grabbing each of the blinded security firmly by the head and drugging them with the chloroform.  
  
He's good, thought Midnight. And in that moment, his concentration slipped a bit too much. One of the security blinked back his sight and noticed the bodies on the floor and Ashfell with a cloth in his hand, held out as far from his own face as possible. "You!" He pulled his gun and aimed at Ashfell. Midnight pushed him, and Ashfell simultaneously stepped on the limp bodies to grabbed him in a clumsy bear hug. Between the two of them they were able hold his gun at a safe angle until Ashfell could administer the anesthetic.  
  
Midnight caught a faint whiff of the stuff and his head felt suddenly funny. Ashfell noticed it, too. The car was too closed in. They had to get rid of the thing soon or else ALL of them would pass out. "Can you make us a hole?" Ashfell asked.  
  
Midnight reached into his pocket for the chalk he always carried. He quickly drew an array on the wall of the elevator, then touched it. It lit up and the metal melted away leaving a hole. Ashfell thrust his hand through and dropped the cloth out into the shaft.  
  
"Well," said Goddard, picking himself up off the floor, and straightening himself out. "I guess you have me for now." He raised his hands in defeat. "But you will be caught and when that happens I will watch your executions."  
  
 _My execution…  
  
I'm in too deep now, _ and yet that felt like a relief, as though some awful decision had been taken away from him. The tension that had grown to painful levels seemed to break and subside.   
  
Midnight let out an ironic peal of laugher.  
  
  
  
 ****

**RICOCHET**

****  
  
Ed tore down the stairs, adrenaline making his blood sing in his ears. It felt good. It felt like flying. And he was flying now, up over the rail and down onto the landing below, bending at the knee just so to take the impact.  
  
His lungs burned, his belly burned, and he felt like a boiler ready to explode. He'd never seen the Fuhrer before, never heard his voice, never even noticed his picture in the paper. Perhaps he was the only person in the country who could say that. But it didn't matter, because he would be the one to pull that man down.  
  
Ed pushed past soldiers twice his weight and more than a full head higher. His palm tingled in anticipation of a slap and the warm surge of alchemy rushing through his body. He rounded one more landing, now ahead of the slapping feet of the arrayed soldiers. He was going to be first.  
  
It was time to get physical.  
  
The Fuhrer's security saw him coming, heard him coming. How could they not. They weren't sure what was going on, but they weren't paid to be tentative. Their guns were out and ready before Ed could jump over the final rail. Ed actually felt the wind from one of the bullets ( _that's close_ ) before he landed squarely on the shoulders of one of the men.  
  
He clapped his hands on the way down and then fell forwards to the floor, pressing the virtual array into the concrete. With a loud groan the floor melted and moved, surged up like a great wave, and knocked the men off their feet and into the walls. One went tumbling down the steps to the next landing.  
  
The rest of his people were catching up, guns out.   
  
No one cried "surrender."  
  
No one asked that they drop their weapons.   
  
In fact no one spoke at all. Off balance, two got off a wild second shot, only to receive bullets back. One in the stomach, the other in the knee. And they were down. The other three were subdued rather quickly.  
  
Ed transmuted some rope from the fire hose so that Roy's people could secure the soldiers. He looked up to see Roy and Al rounding the stairs cautiously. He gave them a thumbs up sign and a grin.  
  
Roy put his mouth to the radio. "Five in the stairwell down. Open door to sub four. Over."  
  
"Roger," came Devers voice. "We got a panic button going off. I'm initiating building wide lock down. That should buy you some time, but don't count on much. Do what you need to do quickly. I'd say you got about 10 minutes to finish this mission before you will face a lot of heavy artillery. Over."  
  
"Understood, over."  
  
The lights suddenly flickered from red to white again. Without anyone touching it, the lock suddenly clicked and Ed heard a very quiet buzzing noise. He grabbed the handle and pushed. The door was heavy but well balanced and it made a rather satisfying clang when it banged against the wall.  
  
Sub four was the prison level. There were some noises coming from the doors to the cells, and Ed thought he saw a pair of eyes looking through the small barred window on one of them. He'd known there were other prisoners, but he never knew why they were there or what use they were being put to. Now he wondered whether he should take a moment to break them out.  
  
No, that wasn’t his job, and they needed less chaos and confusion not more. When Roy was Fuhrer, Ed would insist he figure out what their story was, but for now they could stay. He'd been in a cell like that one for months. It wasn't that bad.  
  
The elevator needed his attention right now. Roy and Al hung back in the stairwell while Ed and several of Roy's people flattened themselves to either side of the elevator doors. Ed saw a radio hanging at the belt of one of the men and grabbed it, bringing it to his lips.  
  
"Devers open the elevator doors."  
  
The light blinked in here as well and suddenly the elevator seemed to come to life. After aching seconds the doors began to open. The men around him turned, aiming their guns inwards. Ed called out from cover, "Put down your weapons and surrender."  
  
"We are secure in here," came a voice from inside. Ed recognized it to be Ashfell's. He saw the men relaxing, weapons still aimed, but no longer just a hair away from firing.  
  
The radio he was holding squawked again. "Our position is being assaulted," came Devers voice. "We can hold them off for a couple of minutes, but not longer."  
  
Ed stepped out and looked into the elevator car. He saw men lying in heaps on the floor, and Ashfell and Midnight standing. Against the wall was a middle aged man with cold eyes belying the surrender made by his upraised hands.  
  
"Did you get the men in the stairwell?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Any injuries."  
  
"Two on their side, none on ours."   
  
"Excellent," said Ashfell. He turned and put a hand on the Fuhrer pushing him out the door and into the hall. "I believe sir, you wanted to see that jail cell?"  
  
The Fuhrer looked straight at Ed, assessing him coldly. "Don't think your genius will get you off this time," he said through tightly clenched teeth. "You or your brother."  
  
Ashfell pushed him on until they reached the cell. Ashfell slid a metal card into the lock and it clicked. He then pushed the cell open.  
  
It was the first time in a week that Ed had seen his jail cell. The last time he was here, he was rubbing Roy's back, reasurring him that all would be well. The room looked exactly the same. Same books, same beds, same everything. It was as if the week had never happened.  Until the Fuhrer walked in and turned around, staring defiantly at him. 

"Where is Mustang," asked the Fuhrer.   
  
"He'll be here soon enough," said Ashfell.  
  
"Hold him still," said Ed. "Might as well get this started now." He pressed his hands together.  
  
The Fuhrer did not hold still, but Ashfell was bigger and stronger, and soon the Fuhrer's coat had been pried open, his shirt lifted and his pale, flabby belly exposed.  
  
Ed pressed the palms of his hands against the Fuhrer's flesh. He felt muscles under the fat, tightening under the palm of his hand. The Fuhrer wrested free of Ashfell's grip but the damage was already done. The array, neat and perfect stood in stark contrast to the almost blue flesh beneath.  
  
Ashfell let him go. Flushing the Fuhrer pulled his shirt back down giving the two of them the evilest look.  
  
"It's your own fault," said Ed. "You go making weapons like this, you should make sure the ones making them for you are on your side."  
  
"Don’t get smart with me," said the Fuhrer. "Your time is coming. You think anyone is going to accept me when I'm arrayed? They'll know something is wrong. There is no way you can win this fight."  
  
"Oh," drawled Roy from the door. "I'd say things were looking well for us."   
  
"It's on him," said Ed,  
  
"My turn, I guess," said Al stepping past Roy and heading towards the Fuhrer.  
  
Then he stopped, his eyes wide. Ed spun around in time to see the Fuhrer pull a gun from his coat pocket and level it directly at Roy.  
  
"NOOOO!" Ed screamed and did the only thing that at that moment made any sense. He jumped between the gun and Roy.   
  
Everything slowed down.  
  
First a noise, deafeningly loud, echoed off the walls of the cell. Ed immediately felt a sudden intense pressure on his automail arm where the bullet ricocheted off. He winced in pain, but also felt triumph. He'd blocked the shot. Roy was safe.  
  
Ashfell dived in at the same time, grabbing the Fuhrers hand and twisting it brutally backwards. The gun fell out and hit the floor, skittering and spinning to a rest under the desk.  
  
Ed heard a loud thud behind him. He turned and saw Roy still standing, unharmed, but crouched forward, his hands up in a protective gesture, his eyes huge. And Ed kept turning and saw…  
  
Oh god … he saw…  
  
"AL!" Ed threw himself between the Fuhrer and Al as if to retroactively protect his brother. His eyes took in every detail at once: the awkward angle of his brother's arms, the strange splay of his legs, his brother's mouth, open and lax. The closed eyes.  
  
It was so small, hardly even noticeable through the dark blond bangs, but it was there. A drop of blood just above the temple, just below the hairline. So little, like a coin. Like the burn mark from a cigar. So neat. Surely something that tiny couldn't be bad.  
  
Ed scooped his brother up in his arms. Al felt limp and heavy, but alive. Not at all the way a dead body would have felt.  
  
The bullet hole in his head didn't even bleed, but for that single drop.  
  
It couldn't be that bad.  
  
Couldn’t be.


	32. Chapter 32

  
**THE UGLY NOW**  


  
  
Winry switched feeds from the hall to the prison cell. She wished she had more than one pair of ears and she wished that there was more than one fixed-mounted camera in Sub 4.  
  
All she could see on the monitor was a grainy image of the elevator and a group of men hanging out in the door to the stairwell. No action there.  
  
But what she heard was another matter. It was going down. Right now. This was it.  
  
Winry bit her lip and crossed her fingers.  _Go, go, go, let’s get this_ done!  
  
 _"I guess it's my turn,"_  said Al, his voice tinny in her ear. She heard reluctance.  _Be strong, my love, she thought. You can do it. Just one more time and this is all over._  
  
A loud sound hit her body like an electric shock. What was that! Some thuds and then no one talked for an achingly long time. What was going on. Was that a shot?  
  
Someone knocked at the door of the Mechanical room. Winry looked at Devers, who met her eye, then turned to look at the door.  
  
In her ear, she heard what was happening three floors below.  
  
 _"He's not dead,"_  said Ed, his voice anguished.  
  
Who wasn't dead? _No, not Roy!_  
  
Over the headset she heard Roy's voice, too low to be really heard.  _"Sorry…"_ was all she could catch.   
  
Not Roy… who else would cause Ed to talk like that….no. _No._  
  
The mechanical room was getting noisy; she wished all the banging would just stop so she could hear what was going on over the headphones better.  
  
 _"Ah hell,"_  came Ashfell's voice.  _"Ah, crap… Ed…"_  
  
Someone was laughing. Some asshole was laughing. A gruff voice she had come to identify as belonging to the Fuhrer spoke up.  _"Well, I guess I saved the cost of an execution for that one."_  
  
 _"He's not dead!"_  said Ed.  
  
Devers grabbed her shoulder. Winry didn't want to turn her focus away, but she had to. She looked up. Devers was standing, his hand near his side as if he were contemplating drawing his gun.   
  
"Winry, take those off."  
  
She shook her head. "Something's going on. Someone got hurt. I think Al was shot."  
  
"It can wait. I need you to repair the alarm right now. Repair as much as you can. Hurry."  
  
Ed spoke again, voice hard and determined.  _"He's going to be just fine, Roy. He just passed out, that's all."_  
  
"Al's hurt," said Winry, unable to get a full breath.  
  
 _"He was an irreplaceable part of your plan… I hope,"_ said the Furher.  
  
 _"Al, cut it out,"_  came Ed's voice, she could hear an sob in it.  _"Wake up, you faker, wake up!"_  
  
Then Devers grabbed the headphones and pushed them off. He pulled them out of the wall and coiled them, tossing them into a bag by his foot. He spoke to Winry harshly. "We don't have any time. Wire it back up… QUICKLY."  
  
Hazily, Winry looked around the room. It all looked so foreign and incomprehensible, but eventually she was able to click in what was going on.  
  
Someone was banging at the door. They were going to come in, soon.  
  
She looked at the mess of wires in front of her. The signs of sabotage were obvious.  
  
"Make it look neat, and hurry. If they catch us in the middle of espionage they will shoot us first and investigate later."  
  
Winry went to work, reconnecting the circuits. Suddenly a loud whooping noise scared her out of her wits. Her body shook and trembled and she could barely hold onto her tools. It's the alarm, she'd just connected it. The whole building would be filled with this noise now. Oh, god, it was all going down wrong.   
  
 _Ed says he isn't dead. I can trust Ed. Ed wouldn't say that if it weren't true._  
  
Winry's heart was trembling. Her vision started going blurry, but she didn't realize she was crying until a warm fat drop hit the back of her hand.  
  
Devers’ hand was on her shoulder, and he was talking at her. She couldn't hear him. Not over the door, banging, banging, banging. Not over sound of her own thoughts.  
  
"I'm going as fast as I can," she said.   
  
"Good enough. Shove it in and cover it." Winry pushed the mass of wires into the wall receptacle and closed the panel over it. She fumbled a screw and it fell to the floor. She bent to reach it. But Devers restrained her. "No, just close it."  
  
She grabbed another screw and slid it into the hole and began to tighten. She got it down, then grabbed the next and had it half way screwed in. Suddenly, Devers pulled her away. "That's good enough," and he yanked her up to her feet and embraced her.  
  
She embraced him back with fervor. Her heart felt like it was literally breaking and she just wanted to press it against someone, just to hold it in her chest.   
  
 _Al can't be dead. Ed wouldn't lie to me about this._  
  
Devers hand pressed against her back and she felt his head buried in her hair, near her neck… His mouth was against her ear saying something incomprehensible. Something that sounded like "Play along, please."   
  
His hand stroked her hair and her mind suddenly skewed off in a new unexpected direction. Devers' hands felt a lot like Al's and that just wasn't right. She didn't want Devers touching her like this. She wanted Al. She had to go to him, get down there somehow and see him. She had medical training. She could help him.  
  
Devers held her in a vise like grip, and she couldn't get free. "Settle down, please," he whispered at her. Then his mouth was over hers, warm and wet and wrong.  
  
She froze. It made no sense at all. Everything was upside down. She didn't want Devers kissing her. The door was eerily quiet.  
  
Then Devers broke violently away and the world erupted into movement. She saw blurs pulling Devers away out of the room. More blurs and she was being held again. Hard hands on her upper arms were pushing her forward, out the door into the hallway, then bending her down. Her legs collapsed and she fell to the floor with her arms pressed painfully high against her back.  
  
One of the blurs coalesced into a uniformed man. He seemed to hesitate, kneeling next to her. A hand brushed her cheek. "Was he hurting you?"  
  
The man wrenching her arms was hurting her, but the world seemed to be settling out again and she realized he meant had Devers hurt her. She blinked. Devers had kissed her and she hadn't wanted that, hadn't expected that, hadn't… why had… had?  
  
Devers was on the floor to the other side of her, his hands were being shoved into manacles. The look on his face was gentle, worried, resigned.  
  
She began to understand what the people around her were saying. They thought Devers had lured her into the room to make out with her. They had seen her tears, and they knew she was Al's girlfriend. They thought Devers had been trying to molest her against her will.  
  
And Devers was doing nothing to change their opinion.  
  
A distraction, so that they wouldn't notice what they'd been up to. She should have played along. Devers was trying to save her life, but now they thought he was a rapist. If she'd just kissed back, had held back on her tears, then she just would have taken a minor hit to her reputation and that was all.   
  
Devers smiled just a little bit, recognizing her comprehension. She couldn't smile back. Now he would die with a ruined name, and she would die with her useless honor intact.   
  
 _Why did he even bother to try save me?_  She thought.  _Why didn't he just let them see what we were doing? It's over! We lost. You gave up your reputation for nothing._  
  
 _Everything_ had rested on Al. Without him to activate the array, the plan was unsalvageable. Eventually the rest of the lab would bring them down. This was clear treason; there would be no mercy.   
  
Maybe it would be better if Al was dead. At least then he died with hope and her, and all their dreams intact, and not by slow degrees in a cell, hopeless and alone, until the hail of bullets from a firing line put an end to his misery.  
  
Winry felt something painfully cold close about her wrists, felt the weight and solidity of metal against flesh, and when she was lifted off the floor, she knew that there was nothing she could do to control her fate.   
  
She closed her eyes and said good-bye to their house, their kids, their future. The beautiful dream faded and she was locked, permanently in the ugly now.  
  
 _Don't wake up, Al. Don't wake up to this._  
  
  


**ARRAY**

  
  
  
Roy held Ed, pulling him away from Al's body. Ed resisted. "He's not dead, Roy. Just look at him. Does he look dead to you?" Ed grabbed Al's head a bit roughly and it lolled forward.  
  
A thin stream of blood ran from his left nostril, around the curve of his upper lip and down the side of his chin.  
  
Roy swallowed. Ed's arm moved and the head flopped back again, over to the side. Roy noticed blood in the left ear, blood on Ed's sleeve. Al's mouth hung open almost as if he were yawning.  
  
Roy closed his eyes and pulled on Ed again. He felt his lover shaking.   
  
"Wake up, you slacker," said Ed roughly. "Shake it off. What would Sensei say if she saw you like this?"   
  
Roy grabbed Ed's hands and pulled them away. It took strength, but in the end Roy simply outweighed Ed, and Al's body flopped back down on the ground. Roy cuddled the man on his lap, holding him tight, kissing the crown of his head.  
  
It was over. He'd failed them. Failed Ed and Al utterly. Failed Winry and Midnight.  
  
Failed Ashfell and all the others they had arrayed. Now they would be executed. They were faultless. They would have never gone along with this sorry excuse for a coup if he hadn't made them, but no one would believe that, and they would all be punished without mercy. Their loved ones would visit their graves and wonder why they had chosen to betray their country. Roy's name would become a curse word.  
  
Roy had failed his country, absolutely, utterly, and abominably. He would carry the sin of hubris to his death.  
  
He looked at the Fuhrer with pure unadulterated hate. The other regarded him back with a cold smile.   
  
"Well, I guess that is that." Goddard laughed again, rubbing his injured hand absentmindedly. "I take it that none of you know how to activate this array. That's what Midnight informed me. He said that only the younger brother was allowed to activate the arrays. It takes work, doesn't it."  
  
Ed's eyes flashed up and Roy felt the tension sing in his muscles. "I can activate that damn array. You brains will be mush, but I don’t think I care. If we are all going down anyway, we might as well take you with us."  
  
He wrestled free of Roy's arms and launched himself at the Fuhrer.  
  
Only to have Ashfell intercept him. "Stop, Ed. Stop. Mustang, control your lover."  
  
"Maybe Ed's right," said Roy bitterly. At least if the Fuhrer were dead, or incapacitated, there may be some hope that the country would find a saner leader. Perhaps some good could come of this after all. "But if anyone is activating the array, it will be me. I can turn his brains to goo as well as anyone."  
  
The Fuhrer backed involuntarily further into the cell. He looked afraid again. Good.  
  
Roy grabbed Ed around the waist and retrieved him from Ashfell's bear hug. "I'll give you revenge, my love. You don't have to carry the guilt of it." Ed seemed to relax a bit in his arms.  
  
"Well, _I'm_ not giving up yet," said Ashfell. "And I'm not letting either of you mess this up because you aren't thinking clearly."  
  
Roy looked up and met Ashfell's eyes. He dared feel a ray of hope. "What do you have in mind?"  
  
"Al isn't the only one who can successfully activate that array."  
  
Roy blinked. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I mean he's not the only one who can activate the array. Why don't you just order Midnight to do it? Midnight was the person who was supposed to activate the goddamn arrays in the first place."  
  
Roy blinked. Midnight could activate the arrays?  
  
 _Of course,_ he could! Roy smacked his head.  
  
Ashfell was giving him a look of utter distain. "Who the hell did you think was going to put you under, Mustang? Your buddy, Al? I don't think so. Midnight's been doing his homework. I was with him when he succeeded. He should be out in the hall there. Just go, call him."  
  
The alarm suddenly started whooping.   
  
"I don't think we have much time," said Ashfell. "Go do it now."  
  
Roy let go of Ed and ran out into the hall. "Midnight!" he shouted, scanning the crowd of arrayed soldiers. "Midnight! Get over here, pronto!"  
  
Midnight separated from the group. "Is it over?"  
  
Roy grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the cell. "Hurry, Goddamn you. We need you."  
  
Bemused, Midnight followed him and stopped in the doorway to the cell. His eyes were down on Al. He looked up at Ed who was cuddling his brother in his lap, then to Al again.  
  
"Shot," said Midnight. "Who…"  
  
"The Fuhrer."  
  
"Had a gun… when?"  
  
"Midnight!" said Roy roughly. "The array is already on him, I need you to activate it. We don't have a lot of time."  
  
"Al…" whispered Midnight.  
  
"Midnight I _order_ you to activate that array," said Roy desperately.  
  
Suddenly Midnight turned and looked Roy in the eye. His face was screwed up with pain. "I'm not your slave, Mustang. I never was. I belonged to Al and I don't think he needs my services anymore."


	33. Chapter 33

**CHOICE**

  
  
  
  
_I'm free._  
  
Midnight was stunned. So this is what freedom smells like. Like gunpowder and sweat and stale air.  
  
 _I_  
  
Am  
  
Free.  
  
So this is what freedom looks like. Like an innocent face marred with blood, pillowed on the lap of an angry man.   
  
 _My mind is my own now. My thoughts are my own. I can choose what to feel, what to do._  
  
"Al…"  
  
 _He was never my friend anyway. He was my captor, my user, my owner. He was a piss poor excuse for a human, luring me up to his room like that. Pretending to like me. I bet he never did. Why would he? We are nothing alike._  
  
(I liked him.)  
  
 _He's dead; I should be dancing with glee. The horrible nightmare is over._  
  
(But, it really wasn’t that bad. It was… kind of … nice.)  
  
 _No. I don't think that. It's over, and I'm not going to miss it._  
  
"Midnight," said Mustang. "I _order_ you to activate that array."  
  
Midnight snapped. He focused on those dark, narrow eyes; the face firm with stress and wet with sweat and fear. He felt something uncoil within him, an anger from the depths of his soul that blossomed out like an unholy flower. "I am not your slave, Mustang. I never was." He said it loud over the whoop of the alarm.  
  
 _I'm Free._  
  
"I belonged to Al."   
  
Freedom hurt. Freedom felt a lot like having his heart cut out.   
  
"And I don't think he needs my services anymore." Midnight turned away, and stepped back out into the hall. Free. The sirens abruptly stilled. The quiet felt better… much better.   
  
"Bravo."  
  
Midnight spun around. It was the Fuhrer's voice. The Fuhrer had shot Al. The Fuhrer had started this whole damn thing in the first place. Midnight abruptly walked back into the cell, pushing past Mustang, staring at the evil son of a bitch who had caused this all to happen.  
  
"Well," said the Fuhrer. "Perhaps you aren't as gullible as you looked. You are free now, take my side and I will see you aren't punished for all the things you did while you were arrayed."  
  
Midnight stopped. Was this a trick? Or was the Fuhrer that desperate for his help?  
  
"I won't be prosecuted? No demotion? No loss of certification?" His breath hitched in at a tantalizing possibility.  _I can have my old life back, free and clear?_  
  
"I won't touch you," said the Fuhrer, sounding a bit overeager to appease him. "In fact, I'm proud of you. Of course, I'd like you to testify at the trials of the others, those I don't have summarily executed right now, that is."  
  
Midnight longed to be able to turn back time and go back to his old life. But what about Ed and Winry, and all the others who were arrayed? Was it really fair that he should have everything and they be destroyed? He had a bit of leverage here. Midnight could save the people Al cared about. It would be the decent thing to do.   
  
He had an idea. "I did it, sir."  
  
The Fuhrer seemed caught a bit off guard. "What?"  
  
"I got you your array," Midnight clarified. "I had the idea, I got the right people. I made it happen. So what do you think? Is my brain child a weapon worthy of you?"  
  
The Fuhrer's smiled. "Yes, indeed."  _Is that smile really appreciation? Or is it just a way to manipulate me._  
  
Midnight didn't take his eyes off the Fuhrer's. "I'm the only one who can make it work, now, you know."  
  
"Yes, I do know that." The Fuhrer seemed to have regained his composure. "In fact, let's have a demonstration."  
  
"How about several, sir," said Midnight. "How about I array Mustang and Ed."  
  
Ashfell stepped between Midnight and Mustang. "Don't, Midnight. Don't make me shoot you."  
  
"You won’t shoot me, I’m going to be saving your life. I'm going to be saving all your lives. You should be thanking me. After all, once Mustang is arrayed, you'll be back on the right side again. The side of the State."  
  
Midnight turned back to the Fuhrer. "Isn't that right, sir? Won't you spare their lives if they were arrayed to you?"  
  
Al would have liked that -- everyone alive. Being arrayed isn't so bad.  
  
The Fuhrer nodded. He looked almost gleeful. "Absolutely. There would be no need to kill them then."  
  
Midnight nodded and looked at Roy. "Well? How does that sound? Everyone lives. Trust me it's not that bad; I've lived with it for a week now."   
  
Mustang's eyes were hard. "If you won't help me, and that will save Ed, do it, but leave me out. I would rather die."  
  
"You'd rather die, huh. Funny, you never gave me that choice. Die or be arrayed. You just went ahead and did it… only you had Al do it for you. Al couldn't hurt a goddamn rat and you had him arraying people. I take my hat off to you, you don't even need arrays to own people."  
  
Mustang clenched his teeth. "Please, Al would have wanted –"  
  
Midnight interrupted. He didn't want to hear what Al would want. Not from Mustang. "I've spent the last three months being smirked at and put down by you. Whether or not I'm a virgin is _absolutely_ none of your business." Roy's face took on a peculiar pained expression. Midnight went on. "You are one to talk, chasing boys half your age, playing on their innocence. Using them. Using me. Using anyone who crosses your path for your own selfish aims. So you'd now rather die than play by someone else's rules. How noble. _Not._ "  
  
"I'm not going to be arrayed either," said Ed. "Kill us both."  
  
Midnight spun on Ed. "You don't even have a clue what is best for you. Arraying you will save your life," said Midnight. "You'll have freedom for the most part. But I see, it was good enough for me and Ashfell and Devers and all the rest, but you are better than that."  
  
"You make an eloquent argument," said the Fuhrer. "I suggest you listen to him, boy. Your country could still use you… once you are tamed."  
  
"Midnight," said Roy, "Please reconsider," then he stopped.   
  
 _He's run out of words, finally. I've got him._ Midnight felt a bitter triumph. "I don't need your permission, you know."  
  
They paused, staring each other in the eye. Roy looked so vulnerable, so lost, so hopeless.  
  
Midnight laughed. It was an ironic, bitter laugh. Then he looked back on the body on the floor.  _I'm free of you, Al. You'll never tell me to do anything again, and I'm getting my revenge in spades. I'm getting everything I could ever want._  
  
 _No, I'm not. I want you to be alive. I want to be owned by you. I even know why I want to be owned by you; you goddamn told me to want it. I remember your exact words._  
  
(But now you are dead. I shouldn't care what you'd want, but I do.)  
  
 _You were going to take me places, Al. I could tell. I can't hate you for arraying me, not even now that you are gone. But you can't take me those places anymore, and there is no point in trying to please you anymore._  
  
And there is definitely no point in pleasing Mustang. And there is no way in hell I'm arraying someone just because the Fuhrer wants me to.  Honestly… do I really want to array someone just to make my own life better? That would make me as bad as Mustang and the Fuhrer.  
  
"What are you waiting for," said Goddard impatiently. "If they resist you, they will die. They know that. Go ahead. I don't think they'll fight you. Then you and I can talk about how we'll win these wars."  
  
Midnight sucked in a breath. Suddenly, the course of action seemed perfectly clear. He laughed again at the irony.  
  
 _Oh, I'm going to array someone all right, but it won't be for_ anyone _in this room. I'm going to sell my soul for the sake of my country, dammit. Because I am and will always be a patriot, even if I don't like the guy in charge._  
  
Midnight turned to Ashfell. "Hold him for me."  
  
Ashfell looked towards Mustang.  
  
"No, not him," Midnight shrugged his chin towards the Fuhrer. "Him."  
  
"What?" said Goddard, taken aback.  
  
Ashfell smiled slowly. Before the Fuhrer could respond, Ashfell had him, pinning his arms behind his back.   
  
"It's on his stomach," said Ed.  
  
Midnight lifted Goddard's shirt. Yep, there it was.  
  
"Why?" asked the Fuhrer.  
  
"Because, you are too reckless to be running our country, much less anyone else’s. Mustang is a smarmy bastard, but at least he cares for someone other than himself. I don't want him as Fuhrer, but given the choice of the two of you, I pick him."   
  
The Fuhrer tried to wriggle away. How pathetic.  
  
"Here's for the seven months of hell you put me through." Midnight touched the array and willed the deed be done.  
  
  


**BULLET**

****  
  
Roy's heart was skipping beats something awful. He put a hand involuntarily on his chest. He already had as much adrenaline as his body could pump, and he was actually beginning to grow numb from the stress. There were too many things pushing at his mind all at once and he simply couldn't handle them.  
  
So he stood dumbfounded and numb while Midnight discussed his fate in icy tones.  
  
"Whether or not I'm a virgin is none of your business."  
  
 _Oh hell, he's not still sore about that is he? I said that weeks ago._  
  
Mustang bit his tongue and willed the smirk off his face with all his might. Petty or not, it was important to Midnight. The man held his fate in his hand, now wasn't the time to be defensive or flip.  
  
Mustang watched as Midnight paced the room almost randomly, turning from the Fuhrer to himself to the body on the floor, as if wrestling some inner demon. Roy could only guess at how the array was affecting him.  
  
Time ticked by, and Midnight vacillated, eyes just a bit wild, expression just a bit crazed, as he justified arraying Roy and Ed. In a way, it was poetic payback. The arrayer becoming the arrayed. Roy could even see Midnight's point in that at least this way everyone would live.  
  
Well, almost everyone.  
  
Roy despaired.  
  
Then suddenly Midnight ceased his random wandering and honed in on the Fuhrer. "Given the choice of the two of you, I pick him."  
  
Roy's mouth hung open in surprise. This abrupt one-eighty left him completely off center, and he could do little but gape while Ashfell pinned the Fuhrer. The plan had snapped back on track as quickly as it had fallen off.  
  
"Here's for the seven months of hell you put me through," said Midnight and he touched the array on the Fuhrer's belly. The older man continued to writhe for a second, but then sensing that he'd lost the battle the Fuhrer settled down and simply glared at Midnight.  
  
 _My god... we did it. We actually did it._  
  
Midnight turned to look at Roy again, one brow raised, waiting.  
  
Roy found his tongue again. "My name is Roy Mustang and you are now keyed to me. Do you understand?" His voice was rushed and breathy, but that didn't matter.  
  
"Yes," said the Fuhrer looking stunned and horrified.  
  
 _Cut straight to the motivations._  
  
Roy's mind raced. He could barely think straight, but he had to. The unmistakable sound of fighting started echoing in the hall. Tripping over his tongue he continued. "The most important thing to you is my welfare. You will do everything in your power to see that I come to no harm. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir." The Fuhrer's expression was softening.  
  
Was that enough? There were so many ways to interpret that last order. Midnight had just interpreted it to mean arraying him. No, he needed something more.  
  
"And you… want what I want. You care for me. You love me. You want me to be happy. Got that?"   
  
"Yessss."  
  
It was probably overkill, but Roy could deal with that later. The important thing was the fact that the fighting was getting fiercer and closer. It sounded like the rest of Lab 5 had decended upon them. Roy winced when he heard a shot.  
  
"Then my first command to you is to help Ashfell sort this situation out before anyone else gets hurt."  
  
Ashfell nodded. "Midnight, you can help, too."  
  
"That sounds like an excellent idea." The Fuhrer tucked his shirt down and followed Ashfell and Midnight out into the hall. "MEN!" he cried out. "ATTENTION! Settle down, I command all of you!"   
  
There was one more random shot, then things seemed to go quiet.  
  
Roy breathed.  _It's over. It's over._  
  
He then looked back to Ed and his brother.  _But at what cost?_ "I'm so sorry, Ed." He knelt by his lover and caressed his hair, then reached down and touched Al. Al's skin was warm and soft.   
  
"What the hell are you sorry for?" asked Ed, sounding irate. "I keep telling you he isn't dead. He's just flaking out on us, the faker. He's going to wake up any moment now. How many times do I have to tell you this before you will believe me?"  
  
Roy felt tears welling up.  
  
Ed tsked.  "For God's sake, man. You tell me ‘Trust me, trust me.’ Well _you_ trust _me_ for once." Ed gave an exasperated sigh then grabbed Roy's hand. "Here." He pulled Roy’s fingers to the top of Al's head and ran it over the soft hair, down towards his ear. "There. Do you feel it?"  
  
Roy wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling, and then he did. There was a lump under the skin above and behind the ear. Roy pinched it between his fingers. It was hard, but it jiggled back and forth when he pressed it. The bullet.  
  
It hadn't entered Al's brain. It had slid around his skull instead.  
  
"Have I ever told you my brother is the luckiest son of a bitch in existence?" said Ed. "He's the only person I know of who to have his entire body be destroyed and still live. Why the hell did you think a little bullet to the head would kill him? He's going to wake up any second, you'll see. And when he does, I'm going to chew him out big time for scaring me like this."  
  
Roy pressed his hand over his mouth, and blinked furiously.  
  
"I told you he was alive. And hey, I think we just won." Ed frowned. "What? Roy... are you crying?"


	34. Chapter 34

**REPEAT**

  
  
Ed was holding his hand, which was weird, because Ed normally doesn't do that kind of thing. Al stared at the hand for a while, then at the sheets, which didn't feel like the sheets on his bed. In fact nothing in the room looked remotely familiar.  
  
"Where am I?" Al asked.  
  
"You are in the hospital." Ed's voice sounded tired.  
  
The last thing Al remembered was being in the stairwell waiting for the fighting to die down.  
  
"Why am I in the hospital?"  
  
"You got shot in the head."  
  
 _Shot in the head?_ Al felt a flutter of worry. "Will I be ok?"  
  
"Yes, Al." Ed made it sound like the answer should be obvious.   
  
Al felt a bit annoyed. It was poor form to put down an injured person. "Oh. Ok, I guess."  
  
He looked around. He didn't see Winry. Surely if he were hurt Winry would be here. "Is Winry ok?"  
  
"She's fine."  _Phew!_  
  
 _The job! The take down!_ Al felt a sudden panic because he didn't remember if he'd done his part or not.  
  
"Did we win?"  
  
"Yes. It's all over."  _Why was Ed so annoyed? I must have done something wrong._  
  
"Did I… do it?"  
  
"No. Midnight did."  
  
Oh… Midnight arrayed the Fuhrer. That was kind of a relief. But Al guessed Ed was irritated that Al hadn't been able to do his job. Well really, as long as it was done, did it matter who did it? Maybe there was something else…. "Is everyone else ok?"  
  
"Yes, everyone is fine. Just fine. And you'll be, too." Al wondered if his questions themselves were annoying Ed. He lay back. Well that wasn't fair. Ed would be wondering, too if it were him.  
  
This whole situation was strange and confusing enough without Ed being a jerk about it. And why was Ed holding his hand? That was just weird. Ed was never affectionate like that.   
  
Come to think of it, the ceiling looked odd, too.  
  
"Where am I?" asked Al.  
  
Ed sighed. "In the hospital."  
  
Al frowned. He had a headache. "What happened?"  
  
"You got shot, but apparently your head is all bone and nothing got damaged."  
  
Insult aside, that was reassuring.   
  
 _But wait! The take down! Oh no, did it go down the way it was supposed to?_  Al didn't remember anything after the stairwell.  
  
"Did I … do it?"  
  
"No. Midnight did."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Ed squeezed his hand. "You are going to be all right, Al."  
  
Al nodded. It was weird that Ed was holding his hand. Ed didn't do that kind of thing. The whole situation was strange. Even the room looked completely unfamiliar.   
  
"Where am I?"  
  
Ed rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "The hospital, Al. You are at the hospital. Everyone is just fine, including you. We won. Midnight put the array on the Fuhrer. Everything went off without a hitch. Just rest, I'll answer _all_ your questions later, when you can actually remember what I tell you."  
  
"Oh." Al frowned. "Have I been asking the same things over and over again?"  
  
"Only for the last twenty minutes."  
  
"I'm sorry. I don't remember doing that."  
  
Ed's eyes softened. "It's ok, Al. You have a concussion. I shouldn't be so short with you. After all, I'm kind of at fault."  
  
Al's brows rose. "How are you at fault?"  
  
Ed paused. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't. And you know what, I promise I will never hurt you again. I will do what I have to."  
  
"It's ok. I'm sure it was an accident, Ed," said Al.  
  
"If you want…" Ed continued. "I know you don't like me being with Roy. It bothers you. I'll break up with him… If that will make you happy." Ed's brows turned up. Al could see it wasn't an easy offer.  
  
 _I can get them to break up. All I have to do is say yes. But what point would there be with it? It's too late to save him the broken heart. And maybe, just possibly, it might work out. After all, Roy and Ed were amazingly similar in a lot of ways. Age apart, they have a lot in common._  
  
Al sighed. "Don't be silly," Al said. "If you broke up with Roy because of me then I'd be the bad guy and you'd resent the hell out of me. Why would I that?"  
  
A small, pained smile tweaked the corners of Ed's lips. "I suppose you are right."  
  
"If you stay with him or not… that's up to you and him. It's your life, Ed. Don't you go making me responsible for it. I've got enough problems of my own."  
  
Al blinked and looked around the room. "Where's Winry? Is she ok."  
  
"She's fine. She just stepped out."  
  
"Oh. Did we win? What happened?"  
  
"We won, you were injured."  
  
"Did I… do it? I can't remember…"  
  
Ed released his hand and patted his arm. "You've done enough. Everything is just fine, Al. Just rest. You'll be better soon."  
  
Al stared at the ceiling for a while. His head hurt. He didn't recognize the room he was in.   
  
"Where am I?"  
  
Ed just sighed.   
  
  


**SETTING THE RECORD STRAIGHT**

  
  
  
Roy rubbed his wrist. The manacle was chaffing. The bench he was chained to seemed to be designed for maximum discomfort. His eye caught on the orange sleeve of his prison uniform. "This really isn't my color."   
  
"I'll trade you my tattoo for it," said Midnight, dryly. He then picked up his coffee off the debriefing table and savored it.  
  
Roy licked his lips. "I don't suppose I can have a cup."  
  
Midnight shook his head, smirking. The bastard.  
  
The door to the debriefing room clanged open and Ashfell entered with a soldier behind him. "Sgt. Muscot, please take a seat at the table."  
  
Muscot looked over at Roy, then back at Midnight who was sharpening his grease pencil with a small knife. "Hey, he's one of the guys who attacked us. What's he here for?"  
  
Midnight looked over at Roy. "Oh, never mind him. Put out your hand please."  
  
Muscot looked up at Ashfell. "What?"  
  
"It's a new form of interrogation," said Ashfell smoothly. "It aides memory. Perfectly harmless. Don't worry."  
  
Muscot reluctantly put out his hand. Midnight drew the array and activated it.  
  
Roy spoke up. "Key to me, you will believe what I tell you."  
  
Muscot turned around to look at Roy. "Sir?"  
  
"You were escorting the Fuhrer around the 5th lab when one of the soldiers tripped. His gun went off and struck another soldier. In the surprise and chaos several other soldiers drew their weapons. Three people were injured before the Fuhrer was able to settle things down and sort things out. It was a highly embarrassing incident for everyone and you'd really rather not discuss it, unless you have to. You remember nothing that discredits this account. Do you understand?"  
  
Muscot nodded.  
  
Ashfell spoke up: "Give me your report of what happened."  
  
Roy listened while the man reported in. There were a few details that had neither actually happened, nor were they part of the scenario Roy had given, but nothing that needed to be corrected. Roy smiled wryly. It was odd how the mind worked, filling in the blanks.  
  
"Good," said Roy. "When you leave this room, you will remember it as being an ordinary debriefing, and you will forget the array and my presence."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Midnight dipped a handkerchief in cold cream, grabbed the man's hand, and wiped off the array.   
  
Ashfell quickly escorted Muscot out of the room.  
  
"So," said Midnight. "Is this Dog still a pain in the butt?"  
  
"Hey, it was funny at the time," said Roy. Midnight glowered. "But no. I'm sorry. You are a good man and I owe you a huge debt. Thank you."  
  
"I think I like you being in my debt." Midnight took another sip of his coffee and savored it, deliberately.  
  
  


**HERO**

  
  
Winry knocked and then entered the hospital room. She took in the scene briefly. Al appeared to be asleep. He had a small bandage on the side of his forehead and a bit of gauze wrapped around his head. Half his face had grown dark with bruises. His eye looked like someone had smeared mascara around it.   
  
She looked over at Ed. He sat in a rather comfortable overstuffed chair in the corner. Had that been there before? It seemed a bit out of place. Wasn't there a gurney?  
  
"So what did you find out?" Ed asked.  
  
"They let me see the x-rays, and we talked a bit about what happened." Winry walked over to Ed. "They say he's lucky. The bullet was slowed down by the ricochet. Most of the energy must have been absorbed by the automail or converted into heat. It didn't have much oomph left when it hit him. He's got some soft tissue damage, a hairline fracture, and a pretty good concussion, but they think they'll be able to release him in a day or two."  
  
Her eye drifted down to Ed's arm. She could see a slightly singed line in his white dress shirt sleeve. "Can I see your automail."  
  
Ed hesitated, then unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. She lifted his arm and ran her fingers over the metal. There it was on the curve of his shoulder, a fairly sizable dent. "Can you lift your arm?"  
  
Ed rotated his arm easily. "It isn't affecting the function."  
  
"I'll have to replace that bit." She suddenly leaned forward and kissed the distressed metal.  
  
Ed flinched back. "What was that about?"  
  
"Just thanking the automail. It did a good job," she said. "It saved Al's life. Roy's too. Not a bad bit of engineering if I say so myself."  
  
She then leaned over and kissed Ed's cheek. "I'd hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't walked into that bullet. Thanks for saving us all, my hero."  
  
Ed blushed.  
  
  


**NEW ORDER**

  
  
  
When Ed returned to the Fifth lab the guard at the gate saluted him. "How's your brother, Major?"  
  
Ed smiled. "He's fine." Ed thought he caught a dark smear on the back of the man's hand. "How are things at the lab."  
  
"Still a bit stirred up. Some idiot let off a round earlier and caused a ruckus, but it turned out to be nothing. Just another false alarm. But everyone got to see the man about it. I got chewed out about gun safety and I was nowhere near the incident when it happened."  
  
"Is the Fuhrer still here?"  
  
"Nah, he left hours ago."  
  
Ed hesitated. "Hey, out of curiosity, do you know what my job is here?"  
  
"You are one of the research alchemists, but other than that I don't know. What you guys do is classified." Clearly this was a weird question, but the man wasn’t going to say that to someone who so far outranked him.  
  
Ed nodded. "Of course. Of course, I am."  
  
He headed inside. The guard at the desk buzzed him through the security door without a second glance. Ed sighed. Roy had been busy. Very busy it looked like, now that he didn't have Al holding him back.  
  
Al wasn't holding Ed back, either.  
  
 _If you stay with him or not… that's up to you and him. It's your life, Ed._  
  
Yes it is. My life. Mine and his. But where do we go from here? It would be easier if it were more clear cut.  
  
He opened the door to the apartment. "I'm home!" Something smelled… wonderful. Mmmm.  
  
Roy ducked his head from around a cabinet. "How's Al?"   
  
"Fine. Winry's spending the night with him. He was acting almost normal when I left."  
  
Ed closed the space between them. He noted that Roy was wearing orange prison slacks and nothing else. He could only guess at the reason for the costume. Ed ran his hand over Roy's back. The scabs had mostly fallen off, leaving behind faint white lines like chicken scratches. Too bad… but then Ed had plenty of scars too. Scars were kind of sexy.  
  
"That's good," said Roy. Ed wasn't sure if he was responding to what he'd said or what he was doing. "Are you hungry? Do you like spaghetti alfredo?"  
  
How domestic. "I like everything. Except milk."  
  
"No milk in this. None at all. Just lots of cream and cheese."  
  
Ed's eyes narrowed. "Aren't they made of milk?"  
  
"Not if you don't want them to be."   
  
"Are you suggesting I go into denial?"  
  
"It's what you do best."  
  
"I wasn't in denial today."  
  
"No," admitted Roy. "You weren't, and I should trust you more."  
  
"Damn straight." Ed hugged him from behind. "I saw your handiwork when I came in."  
  
"Oh?" Roy seemed confused.  
  
"The gate guard – it looked like he'd been arrayed at one point."  
  
"He probably had."  
  
"How many, Roy."  
  
"Everyone directly involved, and a few random others." Roy's voice was quiet but firm. "Don't go lecturing me about morals."  
  
"If Al were here you'd never be able to do it."  
  
"Yes, but he isn't. And it's what needs to be done." Roy turned around and put his arms around Ed, drawing him close and then kissing him. Then he broke and spoke softly in Ed's ear. "No one has to carry the burden of this but me."  
  
Ed swallowed. "Are you going to be able to give it up though? I mean, it's going to be awfully convenient. Any time someone opposes you, just slap an array on him and change his mind. Where do you draw the line?"  
  
"I draw it where it has to be drawn. When this is over, I'll go back to using charm and savvy. After all, it's been pointed out to me that I don't really need arrays. I'm just that good." Roy leaned a casual arm out and stirred his sauce.  
  
Ed snorted. "Charm… yeah, right."  
  
Roy went on more seriously, "There are only a few more left, and tomorrow, the ones we did earlier start coming off. I'll need your help for that. Will you be able to leave your brother long enough?"  
  
"Al is ok. Yeah, I think he'd approve of me staying away if it's so I can take off the arrays he did."  
  
Ed leaned in and they embraced for a moment. "Roy, what's the plan now?" He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Roy's shoulder, nestling until he could hear Roy's heart under his ear.  
  
Roy's hand threaded through his hair. "There is no plan, my love. Now we just improvise and see what comes."  
  
Ed sighed. "I guess I can live with that."


	35. Chapter 35

**FLAME**

  
  
Midnight flipped through the pages of reports, some type written, some in the various scrawls of Roy, Al and Ed. He stopped when he found the array. He'd drawn that array dozens of times now, but he'd never draw it again. In a little bit he wouldn't even remember it.   
  
He felt a compulsion to trace it out one last time, just for the sensual feel of it. He placed his index finger on the outermost circle and started sweeping around. The array was almost pretty.   
  
His finger traced the last line and it felt like completion, like he could move on knowing the job was done. My brainchild, he thought, though honestly he had little to do with the way it turned out. Still it was a big accomplishment.   
  
Time to put it away.  
  
He flipped the file closed and patted the blank manila folder, then with a whole lot more care than he needed to he placed it in the metal trash can.  
  
Roy seemed almost amused. "Saying goodbye?"  
  
"Seven months of my life. It's a lot to give up."  
  
Roy hesitated. "It's not necessary that you give it up. We can let you keep your memories. We can make it so you can't reproduce the actual design."  
  
Midnight shook his head. "No. I'd like my innocence back, thank you. I've talked it over with Al about what I'll remember and what I won't. I've got it all scripted out." Midnight took a deep breath. "I'm the Midnight Alchemist after all, not the Mind Controller."  
  
Roy laughed. "Yes, and I'm Flame, not Puppet Master."  
  
Midnight raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to erase your own memories?"  
  
Roy's smile abruptly faded. "No. I don't have that luxury. I will get to wrestle with my conscience the old fashioned way." He looked at the files in the trash. "Is that everything? That was quick."  
  
Midnight nodded. "The nice thing about top secret projects is that they don't leave a lot of copies around. The Fuhrer received all his reports orally; he was too paranoid of his own people to keep a paper trail. By the way, how is he doing? Busy, I see. I saw the paper today."  
  
Roy cleared his voice. "He's one of those things I'm going to have to wrestle with."  
  
"Mmm." Midnight picked up the trashcan and moved it away from the desk. "Well, would you like to do the honors?"  
  
Roy put on the gloves, slowly, Midnight noticed, as though he were still getting used to the idea of wearing them. He hesitated a moment and then snapped.  
  
There was a whoosh and the trash can flared up dramatically. A spike of flame 6 feet tall lit the room.  
  
Both men jumped back instinctively, then laughed at the sheer spectacle of it.  
  
"Put it out before it burns the ceiling!" said Midnight, half scared, half delighted.  
  
"I'm working on it."  
  
The fire immediately died down to a more manageable roar. The two alchemists watched it burn. "Should have gotten marshmallows," Roy said.  
  
"Yeah. Was that the first thing you've burned?"  
  
"In almost 16 months, yes."  
  
"Not shabby."  
  
"My control needs some work."   
  
Smoke billowed off the ceiling and began to make them both cough. Roy waved his hand and the fire abruptly went out. Midnight opened the windows and started up the fans. There was nothing but blackened ashes left in the trash.  
  
"Well, you did the job." Midnight breathed, coughing just a little. He felt lighter having unburdened himself of the files. It was over. All but one tough part and he wasn't backing out of that. "So has everyone else's arrays been removed?"  
  
"Yours is the last," said Roy  
  
"I suppose that's fitting since I was the first as well." Midnight leaned against the wall and looked out at the building across the street. He then let out one last choppy laugh. "Looks like I'm never going to collect on that debt you owe me. I won't remember it."  
  
"You might not," said Roy, and then he put a hand on Midnights shoulder. "But I will. I'm not going to forget."  
  
Midnight smiled. "Well then, I guess I'm just going to have to trust that you'll do right by me."  
  
  


**FUHRER**

  
  
  
When Roy returned to his apartment, he noticed Ed sitting on the couch reading the paper. The young man was frowning and Roy knew exactly why. "I'm guessing you didn't know what he was going to do, " Ed said.  
  
"Of course not. I'll have to talk with him about it. I don't want a repeat of this sort of thing. It was taking my interests too far."  
  
"Yeah," said Ed, sighing. "I suppose that's the way he's used to operating. Get rid of those who oppose him. I shouldn't be surprised, but it caught me off guard." He put the paper on the coffee table and Roy read the headline again.  
  
 **MUSTANG INVESTIGATION REOPENED IN LIGHT OF INFORMANT'S SUICIDE.**  
  
"He was the guy who ratted you out," said Ed.  
  
Roy looked at the picture of the underling he'd once trusted enough to let in on his ambitions. It had been a poor choice, but at the time the man seemed earnest and trustworthy enough. He'd been found in a public park, shot in the head, with the gun still in his hand. The suicide note had been long, claiming jealousy over a stolen girlfriend had lead the young man to plant evidence of treason in Roy's apartment.  
  
A trade. Defamation of one sort for defamation of another. His patriotism would be restored at the price of his character.  
  
"I don't suppose you stole his girlfriend, did you?"  
  
Roy shook his head. "I only stole Havoc's, and I only did that because he was such a good sport about it. No, that's not true. I did it because I was a jerk and I could. But this guy… I didn't even know this man had a girlfriend. It's possible he didn't."  
  
"So it's all nonsense."  
  
"Well, except in that he did plant evidence of treason in my apartment, yes." It had annoyed him for months that the evidence he'd been convicted on wasn't even the truth. It had depressed him for longer that the man who he'd been so sure was a friend, turned out to have been a spy. And everyone had suffered for it.  
  
Ed thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Could it have been a real suicide?"  
  
Roy shook his head. He pushed the paper away. "No. But it's done. I talked with the Fuhrer earlier today, he seems to think in another month or so they can close the investigation again. I can have a public apology and my rank back. Repairing my image will take longer than that, though. I doubt I'll ever be promoted again."  
  
Ed sighed. "Until you become Fuhrer."  
  
 _Until I become Fuhrer,_ Roy thought. He sat down next to Ed on the couch and pulled him close. Ed was right. Unless a miracle happened, Ed would never be the proper host at parties that a Fuhrer required. Ed would remain headstrong and loud and far too smart for his own good, and really all the things that Roy loved about him in the first place. He would be, in short, a public embarrassment.  
  
But perhaps the problem wasn't as intractable as it seemed. He squeezed Ed. "Hmmm."  
  
  


**PHOENIX**

  
  
  
"Andrew, are you completely sure about this?" asked Al. It was dim in the room, and late. The older alchemist was already in his pajamas, ready for the night. It was all just as they had planned. But then Midnight had gotten up, fetched a beer, and asked for a few moments before they began. Al could wait as long as Midnight needed… into tomorrow if necessary.  
  
 _Midnight… Andrew._  
  
Midnight took another swig of his beer. "Yes, I'm completely sure." Al hoped he was as resolute as he sounded. Still, he worried. He owed it to Midnight to restore him as well as he could.   
  
"I can go get my brother…"  
  
Midnight shook his head. "No! Please," He raised a hand. "I know this is kind of paranoid of me, but considering your brother's orientation, I'd rather not have him touching my naked butt."  
  
Al giggled. "Ok, but it's just, I can't completely get rid of the tattoo," Al said apologetically "Not the way he could. I mean, I can get rid of the ink, but there will be a scar in the shape of the array, and that would be just as bad. I just don't trust myself to mess with altering living flesh. I might leave you disfigured."  
  
"It's ok," said Midnight. "Turn it into a different tattoo. At least, unlike your brother, you are a decent artist."  
  
"Ed's not that bad," said Al. "He's just too lazy to do more than crude stick figures… and this is off the point." He didn't need Midnight thinking Ed was a great artist. As long as Midnight had that array on, Al had to be careful about making declarative statements. Al sucked in a breath and let it go. "You ready to start?"  
  
"One moment, let me finish my beer. I think I want a little courage before we go on."  
  
Al looked at the painting on Midnight's wall. It was an original abstract. Nice. Not really Al's taste, but nice. It was part of Midnight's personality that he'd never had a chance to know, and now he'd never get to. This was the first time he'd been in the man's apartment. It would be the last time, too.  
  
They had both agreed that Midnight take an immediate reassignment somewhere else. Somewhere where he could get a fresh start away from Al. Like his flesh, there would be scars left on Midnight's mind, even after the array was removed. He'd never be truly free of its effects – though maybe, with time, his mind would compensate, and Midnight would move on. So long as Al wasn't there to reopen the wounds, that is.  
  
"I'm sorry, you know," said Al. "I've never regretted anything as much as I've regretted what I've done to you. I'm not sure if I can ever make up for it."  
  
"Don't beat yourself up, Al," said Midnight. "Do you honestly think I'd be happier traveling around the countryside arraying the Fuhrer's enemies for him? No, ironic as it is, you saved my soul. You saved me from myself." Midnight took one last swig. "I think I'm ready now."  
  
"Ok."  
  
Midnight put the empty bottle in the trash and then lay down on his stomach in bed. Al pulled a chair up close and then pulled out the script Midnight had written up himself. It was almost three pages long, and it took a while to get through. Some memories Midnight had chosen to keep. He wanted to remember working with Ed and Roy and Al. He even wanted to remember what they were working on. But then the fiction came in. The rats had not responded as well as they should have, and the dogs had been disastrous. In the end they'd come to the conclusion that not only was the array unworkable, but it was fundamentally so flawed that there was no point in ever pursuing it. He'd remember nothing of being arrayed, or arraying others.  
  
Al reached the last words and put the paper down on the bed. He had to work fast, while Midnight processed the new information.   
  
"When I leave this room, you will forget I was ever here. You will go to sleep and when you wake up tomorrow, you will remember only that it was an ordinary, unremarkable night."  
  
He then grabbed Midnight's waistband and pulled the pajama bottoms down to his thighs. Placing a paper with a predrawn array strategically over the alchemist, he concentrated and imagined how he wanted the tattoo to go. He then removed the paper and inspected the results.  
  
In place of the array on Midnight's left buttock was a bird, gracefully arched over with flames emitting from its feathers and beak. A phoenix. Rebirth and a new start. Al admired his work, knowing he'd never see it again. Then he pulled up the man's pants.  
  
"Goodnight Andrew," he said, and grabbed all the papers and evidence of the deed.  
  
Andrew was already asleep and didn't stir when Al turned off the light and closed the door.

 


	36. Chapter 36

**FOUR YEARS**

  
  
  
Al touched the pages. He could see the words, he could even read the words, but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around them.  
  
"There has to be a loophole," he said. He looked up at Lt. Colonal Avery Dunn.  
  
The older man looked sympathetic, but shook his head. "If you were let out of your contract, there would be _thousands_ of recruits wanting to be let out of theirs."  
  
"Four years?" said Al, feeling the words in his mouth. "I signed on for _four years?"_  
  
"That's your signature. I even recall you doing it."  
  
"Four years," muttered Al. "I was under _duress_ when I signed this!" He stood and slapped the contract against Avery's desk. "That is… that's… That's unfair! It shouldn't count."  
  
Avery smiled sadly. "Well, yes. But when has the Military ever been fair?" Avery sighed. "I did get a note from the Fuhrer about your case though. You must have impressed him on his visit."  
  
Al felt his heart pound with sudden hope. Yes. Roy. Roy will get me out of this. "What does it say?"  
  
"Hmmmm," He pulled the letter from the rather large file _(I should find out what's in that file some time, is there really that much to know about me?)_ and then passed it over to Al. "It's says that the National Alchemist Exam are coming up in 3 weeks, and that you really should consider signing up for it."  
  
Al snatched the note. "Apparently, the Fuhrer thinks you are a shoo in for passing," said Dunn.  
  
 _As it is in the best interests of the State that Specialist Elric passes the exam, he is to be given the time and resources to create a practical demonstration of his skills._  
  
"Not exactly vacation," said Dunn. "But close enough, considering we are at war. Good luck on the practicum. I don't suppose you can just hand in what you've been doing at the lab."  
  
 _Offer up to the military the slavery array as my practicum?_ Al couldn't help but laugh. "No. That wouldn't work."  
  
Dunn shrugged. "Well, then I suggest you start hitting the library and studying up."  
  
  


**APPEASEMENT**

  
  
  
"He owes me," said Al. "I don't see how he can say no."  
  
Ed felt Al's pain. He'd felt the same thing when he'd discovered his retirement was retroactively denied. But if anything, Al had even less reason to think that the Military was just going to let him go. They were in the middle of a war and Al had volunteered as regular military, not as a civilian adjunct.  
  
But, there really wasn't much to do about it. "He said no to me too, and I'm sleeping with him. I don't see how you think you can do me better."  
  
Al put a hand to his face. Ed laughed. It still made Al a bit twitchy when he mentioned his relationship with Roy, but Al was getting used to it.   
  
"Listen, I risked my butt for him. I arrayed people for him. I sold my soul and self-respect to get him out of prison. I deserve _something_ in return."  
  
Ed heard a bustling from the bathroom and Roy emerged, patting his hands on his slacks. "What exactly do you think I can do, Al?" He raised an eyebrow. "I can't array people anymore. It will look very suspicious if I order the Fuhrer to do something so uncharacteristic. So," he shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands, "How can I make it up to you."  
  
Al opened his mouth and shut it.  
  
"Unless," said Roy, "That is you _are_ willing to use the array again. If that's the case…"  
  
Al raised his hand. _"No!"_ said Al. "That's ok."  
  
Roy nodded.  
  
"I think both of you need to rethink your situation a bit. Ed, what in the world were you wandering around the countryside for when you got called back up. Surely raising rabbits wasn't your ultimate goal?"  
  
Ed automatically closed his automail fist. "We were going to… never mind, it's not important."  
  
But Roy seemed to already know the answer. "Get your arm and leg back. Or at least an arm and leg, if not the originals. Medical Alchemy. I can see that as a military worthy project for the two of you. I believe you would probably need to be stationed near a good sized hospital for convenience. A hospital that, I imagine, would have an automail clinic attached. I can see that happening -- if, that is, you can pass that exam."  
  
Al began to perk up. Roy continued, "And as State Alchemist, you would of course be able to get a stipend for an apartment. I imagine Winry would like that."  
  
"Yeah we both would."  
  
Roy sat down on the couch next to Ed and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "Would that make you happy?"  
  
Al was grinning. "I can live with that. Oh, my fiancé says you owe her a coat."  
  
"I haven't forgotten," said Roy.   
  
"Going to tell Winry," said Al, grabbing his jacket. "I think she'll be happy, too." Ed watched Al leave, smiling. Roy really did have a talent for getting his way, didn't he.  
  
"Well, I guess you got us both in your camp now," said Ed. "That was pretty clever."  
  
Roy smirked.  
  
Ed mused over the plan. Even though Roy had directed it at Al, it was as much a promise and an appeasement for him. His heart hammered at the thought: perhaps there was no need to split up the team after all. Perhaps, with some time, this rift that had grown up between Al and himself could be healed, and the camaraderie and closeness that had made up most of their lives could be recaptured.  
  
Continuing to work at the 5th Lab wouldn't be that hard. He was used to it already. Ed would miss the excitement of going to new places and getting into trouble, but now that he was attached to someone, the idea of settling down wasn't that bad. Besides, there was no way Al would be joining him on long missions anymore. Marriage plans required him to stay home.  
  
Maybe he didn't have to choose between Al and Roy after all. Yes. If Roy could arrange that, it would more than make up for not being let out of his contract. It would indeed.  
  
Ed snuggled into Roy's arms. He could have it all, Living in an apartment rather than a jail cell, working with his brother on a project to get back his limbs. Winry's company. Roy. It was almost too good to be true.   
  
There had to be a catch somewhere.  
  
Ed felt Roy's arms tighten around him, and then he was released. "I got a letter today. I was expecting it. I thought I'd share it with you."  
  
He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Ed took it from his fingers and unfolded it.  
  
"They found you not guilty," said Ed. "They expunged your record and have returned you to the rank of Brigadier General, hey you _were_ promoted. And…" Ed's mouth went dry. His heart skipped a beat. "So they want you on the Advisory board for War Affairs."  
  
"The panel meets in Dunsk." Ed felt his body tighten up. "How far away is that?"  
  
"About a day's travel North West of Central."  
  
"How long will that board be meeting?"  
  
"I imagine until the war is over, and perhaps during the reconstruction."  
  
Ed's heart sank. "Ah. I suppose you'd have to live there wouldn't you."  
  
"Yes. I will." Roy stroked Ed's hair. "It would be a really hard commute from here."  
  
"I guess."   
  
Of course it was too good to be true. But at least, as a way of parting, it wasn't as painful as it could be. It was nice of Roy to see that he'd be with Al, and the work would probably keep him too busy to think about romance anyway. Really, he'd rather suspected this would happen at some point anyway. The job was a good way to save face for both of them. There would be no need to talk about it; no risk of a scene that would leave a lingering bad taste. They could pretend a while that they could hold a long distance relationship, then let it die a quiet, natural death.   
  
Then Roy would go back to what he truly wanted. And Ed? Well, there was a chance he'd find someone else, too. Ed could accept that. He really could. But, he didn't feel much like cuddling anymore -- it just felt too false.  
  
Ed pulled himself free of Roy, only to find his lover's hands drawing him firmly back.  
  
Roy suddenly seemed to catch Ed's thoughts. "Oh, for heaven's sake, man, there is more than one lab out there, and large hospitals are fairly common. You didn't think I'd leave you here, did you?"  
  
Ed didn't move. All his presumptions fell apart.  
  
Roy laughed. "There's a hospital and a Lab in Dunsk. I would hardly offer Al that proposition if I didn't know a way it could work out for the two of us."  
  
He pulled Ed into a kiss and then whispered in his ear "You can't get rid of me that easy."  
  
Ed melted, but a piece of his heart still waited for the axe to fall.  
  
  
  


**ACCEPTENCE**

  
  
Well, thought Winry, this sure wasn't Rush Valley. The house wasn't terra cotta, and it had no archways, nor a yard, nor a pool -- in fact strictly speaking, it was a one bedroom apartment in a four story walk up. But the curtains were blue, just like her eyes, and the view onto the park was worth the extra money they paid for it.  
  
Winry liked to sit in the window, afternoons after her shift at the hospital, and watch the sun go down over her new home town. The dogwoods were in full bloom, and beyond that were the tops of charming old style buildings, dating back a century or more.  
  
While Dunsk was neither a sleepy quiet burg like Rizembul, nor was it a bustling center of action like Rush Valley, it did have a certain charm. It had history and an intellectual flare that she really could get used to fast. She could like it here… which was good, because it looked like this is where they would stay for the foreseeable future.  
  
So long as Ed lived here, Al would be here, too. And as long as Al was by her side, she was content. She didn't need to compete for Al's affections. He had enough love for both of them.  
  
"After dinner, do you want to take a walk in the park?" she asked.  
  
"Sure, "said Al. She looked over to see him lying on the couch, idly teasing the kitten with his alchemist's pocket watch.  
  
She noticed the letter next to his other hand. "Who was that from?"  
  
Al put down the watch and sat up. He looked down at the letter. "Midnight. I don't know if I should answer it or not. He was just writing to say 'hi.'"  
  
"What's up with him?"  
  
"He's in Xing right now, as some sort of alchemical exchange thing. He's sharing our alchemical tricks with them in return for learning their alchemical medicine. It's going well. He spends half the time teaching, half the time learning. He says he has a student that reminds him of Ed. I'm not sure if that's good or not."  
  
Winry considered. "The array is off of him. You might as well write back. Maybe that Xing Medicine will be useful to you."  
  
Al stood up joined her on the window seat. His arms were warm around her, but embrace was a bit jerky. "I'm afraid I might hurt him," said Al. "I've already hurt him so badly."  
  
"And maybe you won't." Winry eased herself into a more comfortable position against his chest. She reached up and brushed away the bangs from his eyes "Maybe if get to know him, you will be able to see you didn't ruin his life." She kissed him. "And then maybe you will be able to let the guilt go."  
  
Al still seemed uncertain. Winry continued, speaking into the curve of Al's shoulder. "You don't have to burn every bridge you cross you know. Some things you are allowed to keep. In the end, he was your friend, wasn't he?"  
  
"Yeah," Al rewarded her with a laugh. "I guess he was."   
  
"Well then, perhaps he can be again."  
  
Winry enjoyed the way his arms felt around her shoulders, and the feel of his pulse against her cheek. She took in the small apartment and the things they'd chosen to furnish it with. Yes, I can definitely live here, she thought. This may not be our dream, but so long as Al's happy, it's just as good.  
  
  


**SETTLING OUT**

  
  
  
The papers never ceased to be upbeat, no matter what they covered, but in this case the news was good:  
  
 **DRACHMA ENTERS NEW DIPLOMATIC TALKS. WILL THE WAR END SOON?**  
  
The media didn't cover the other noteworthy news, but word of it spread like wildfire anyway: The Fuhrer had put a temporary halt to the conscription gangs. The fronts had grown quieter and people were returning from their rotations alive and unharmed.  
  
Still other news only traveled as far as the break rooms in military headquarters around the country. There was a new voice in the Fuhrer's ear, and these days it was speaking reason.  
  
While many in the Military wondered at Mustang's spectacular comeback, it was dangerous to question it too closely. He was untouchable again; one of the Fuhrer's inner circle, and the Fuhrer was still quite ruthless when it came to those who threatened him or his favorites. While there was quite a bit of resentment, there was grudging respect as well. Mustang was able to do what none of the other brass had the courage to – give the Fuhrer much needed strategic advice. The fact that the Fuhrer _took_ the advice just heightened Mustang's reputation more.  
  
Mustang himself was a fairly private man, surrounding himself with a clique of soldiers from his days as a Colonel. He rarely attended the parties and functions that he was invited to, but when he did, he was usually in the company of an attractive and brilliant young research alchemist. Although the two rarely showed affection towards each other in public, and though Mustang was quite handsome, the regulars learned quickly that flirting with the Brigadier General would earn a hard glare (and an occasional clenched fist) from the smaller blond.   
  
Flirting with the blond was an even greater faux pas.  
  
  
  


**HEALING**

  
  
The arm was not the one Ed had lost. Without a stone there was simply no way to get that back. But it looked like his, and felt like his, and it functioned seamlessly. There was faint line of scar where it attached at the shoulder – far less of a mark than the automail had produced.  
  
He showed it off at the weekly poker game. Al and Roy, who had both seen it before only gave it the briefest glances, but Hawkeye and Havoc examined it with great attention.  
  
"We ended up using Tucker's old chimera research. I thought, well if you can combine different animals, why not two humans, they are closer. From there we refined it with some Xing healing techniques. Then Al cooked up this amazing cosmetic array to smooth out the looks. Finally, I came up with the array on my shoulder."  
  
Hawkeye put a tentative finger on the design. To a layman's eye, it could have been a decorative tattoo, but of course, anything even vaguely shaped like a circle was apt to be an array of some sort. "What does it do?"  
  
"Prevents rejection," said Ed. "The hard part was finding a donor arm the right size. We ended up having to… and don't tease me… use the arm from a woman. Not that you can tell after Al's array."  
  
Hawkeye brought the two hands together. They matched perfectly. "The woman was dead?"  
  
"Yeah, that parts a bit sad, but we didn't kill her. She'd been hit by a car. Anyway, it may take a little while before we get a good enough match on the leg, but I'm patient, so my sister-in-law still has a job for now. Honestly, for as much work as this is, and the time, luck, and skill involved, I suspect that the automail business won't be too badly impacted."  
  
"Do you think you'll miss the automail?" asked Havoc. "I mean, it was pretty nifty in a fight."  
  
Ed closed his fist. "Yeah, well, these days the most action I see is when one of my student's arrays blows up. I miss the missions some times, but… I have too much going on here to want to be away. Besides they wouldn't be any fun without Al."  
  
"As fetching as you are without your shirt," called Roy. "I'm afraid you are being a distraction. These cards won't play themselves."  
  
Ed laughed and the game resumed.  
  
  


**LETTING GO**

  
  
  
Roy ran a finger over Ed's right hand, feeling the way the skin moved, it's warmth. He traced the small veins with the light touch of his finger.  _You can't undo the past, but sometimes with enough work and a little luck, you can make up for it._ Ed continued to read his book, as though he didn't notice.  
  
"Remember Midnight," said Ed out of the blue.  
  
Roy raised his brows. "Of course."  
  
"Apparently he and Al have been mailing each other long arguments over theology. Midnight actually wrote he thought Al was full of crap. Al was so excited about that you'd think that he'd just adopted a new kitten or something."  
  
Roy snorted.   
  
"Anyway, Al seemed to think you'd want to know."  
  
"The mind has an amazing ability to heal." He traced the veins again. "He's no longer Al's slave."  
  
Ed pulled his right arm away, and pulled himself up to kiss Roy. "So when are you going to make your move?"  
  
Roy blinked, caught off guard again by the abrupt question.  
  
"Make my move towards what?"  
  
"Fuhrer."  
  
Roy shook his head and laughed. "My love, haven't you noticed? I already _am_ Fuhrer. I've _been_ Fuhrer for quite some time, at least in every way that counts."  
  
Ed smiled. "You… I thought you…"  
  
Roy continued. "Well, I seem to recall you having serious doubts about being the spouse of a Fuhrer. You were afraid you would come under too much scrutiny. So, here you are. I have what I want, and you have what you want. Everyone is happy." He went back to playing with Ed's arm while he waited.  
  
Ed relaxed. Then his eyes widened and he stared straight at Roy. Roy didn't suppress the smile. Sometimes the kid was just a little slow on the uptake.   
  
"Did you say 'spouse?'" For a second Ed seemed happy, but then that damnable doubt crept into his eyes.   
  
There was nothing, Roy realized, he could do about that. The only one who could comfort those demons away was Ed. Still, Roy had to make one more try.  
  
"It's been almost 18 months since that day in jail when I smashed the microphones and we had our first true kiss. I've been around women on a regular basis for 16 months. Tell me, do you believe me when I say I love you and I'm not going to dump you for the next girl?"  
  
Ed slouched in his arms. "There is really no way to prove you won't, is there." He sighed.  
  
"No. You'll just have to trust me."  
  
Then it seemed as if Ed let something go, for his face grew soft and placid and a smile formed across his lips. "Then, " he breathed. "I trust you."

 


End file.
